


Love Me, Use Me

by NotVerified



Series: Love Me, Use Me [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Assassin Ray, Blood Kink, Blow Jobs, Bomb Engineer Gavin, Daddy Kink, Derogatory Language, Dirty Talk, Drug Use, Explicit Sexual Content, Fake AH Crew, Female Jack, Frottage, Gang Violence, Gangs, Gun Violence, Heists, Jealousy, Knife Play, Leader Geoff, Love Triangles, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Multi, Murder, OC characters, Past Relationship(s), Polyamory, Praise Kink, Psychotic Ryan, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Rough Sex, Torture, Unsafe Sex, Violence, Violent Sex, and we'll add more as we go, any more intense tags will be added before the chapters that feature them, tragic backstories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-03-22 15:20:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 42
Words: 307,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3733747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotVerified/pseuds/NotVerified
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>WARNING: This fic is written in roleplaying format. We’ll do our best to edit so that it’s a smooth read, but it still reads like an RP more than a traditional story or fic. This is not to say it’s not well written; it just might not be what you’re used to.</p><p>Michael Jones has had a difficult life. He’s gone through abuse and trauma and come out the other side more or less (Less, definitely less) intact. But just when he thinks his life may be getting as normal as the life of a high-ranking gang member can get, things get turned on their head when he’s paired up with Ryan Wolf for an assignment. </p><p>But of course, things aren’t as simple as riding off into the sunset with the psychopath, and even if they were, there’s still his doting boss to consider. Geoff’s been in love with Michael since as long as he can remember, and he ends up picking the exact wrong - or perhaps the exact right - moment to tell him so.</p><p>Ryan makes Michael feel special; Geoff makes him feel wanted. But can either - or both- of these men make him stop feeling broken?</p><p>Updates Wednesdays</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It’s been almost a year since Grace and I started writing together, and I can’t believe I was so lucky as to meet someone as kinky and gore-loving as me. For over half a year - though it could be longer, I can’t quite remember - we worked on one story. This monster is over 200,000 words in total and evolved from a fun, bloody Myan/Micheoff love triangle into something with a life of its own. From tragic backstories to original characters that I hope you’ll love to abhor (Or simply love to love, depending on the case), we’ve given this fic its own little world to live in. It’s sexy and violent and bloody and angsty as hell, and it’s ours. I’ll let Grace take over now, but I’m so excited to be sharing this with all of you and I hope you’ll welcome it with open arms.  
> Cat
> 
> Cat and I were truly destined to be rp partners, I don’t think I could’ve met someone who thought of ideas at the exact same time as I did. We recently jumped back to this rp, different parts of it(you’ll see later if you stay around) but we got to thinking that we should go ahead and show it to the fandom. Mind you, this is very much our child, and it’s warped in all the ways we like. There is a ton of words and content, for you guys to read, so we hope you’re prepared. 
> 
> Just to prepare you, this story gets heavy fast. The first few chapters are rather innocent for what’s to come. It’s definitely not everyones cup of tea, so read on carefully. 
> 
> Enjoy! -Grace

It was night in Los Santos, not that that made much of a difference in the city. Fluorescent signs and street lights lit up the streets almost as well as sunlight. Ryan grimaced; dark alleys and abandoned windows were more his forte than jacking a vehicle in what might as well have been broad daylight. But this is what Geoff had told him to do and Ryan was nothing but loyal… when it served his interests. He tucked his mask more firmly under one arm, scanning the street slowly for something fast, nondescript, and unguarded.

Michael crossed his arms over his chest, fingers digging into the skin slightly as he waited patiently for Ryan to actually pick a fucking car. If it'd been his choice, he'd have taken the first one he'd seen; not stalked around like a vulture looking for it's prey. It wasn't as if it was that important, the heist was going to be easy to complete either way. It was rare that Geoff paired the two men together at all, and more often than not Michael was by Geoff's side.

Unable to keep quiet any longer, he huffed in annoyance. "I'm sure no one will suspect a thing."

Ryan turned away from the car he was inspecting to raise an eyebrow at his partner. "If you'd like to pick, go right ahead," he said, motioning to the cars lining the street with a gloved hand, "Just don't come crying to me when the alarm goes off and half the fucking city comes out to see what's going on." 

This was why he didn't like working with Michael; the hot headed young man was always much too impatient for Ryan's taste. Crime was an art. You had to plan well and be careful if you didn't want to end up with the cops on your ass and a bag full of evidence in the front seat.

Michael fought the urge to roll his eyes at the man's gaze, choosing instead to grind his teeth together lightly. He glanced at the line of cars where Ryan had pointed to, bouncing on his feet impatiently as he glanced in the car closest to their left. 

"What's wrong with this car?" Michael prompted stubbornly, "It's not like it matters if the alarm goes off, we'll be gone before anyone even notices." He was getting progressively more irritated with Geoff's decision to pair them together, and Ryan's insistence of practically going car shopping.

Ryan gave the car a cursory glance. It was cherry red and looked like it cost a fortune, exactly the kind of vehicle Ryan would normally avoid. Today, however, he was getting fed up with Michael's antics and they only had half an hour to get to the rendezvous point. He slipped his mask over his head with a sigh, smashing the driver's side window with an elbow. Picking the lock wouldn't have done any good, the vehicle had "car alarm" written all over it and his suspicions were proved correct when a siren loud enough to make him grit his teeth began to sound. 

Giving Michael an annoyed smirk, he motioned to the car, "After you."

Michael’s body jumped as the alarm rang throughout his ears, his eyes naturally going wide while his body jumped into gear as Ryan's words formed in his ears. He slid across the hood of the car, throwing a cocky grin in Ryan's direction before moving to stand in front of the driver's seat, patiently waiting for Ryan to slide into the passenger seat and unlock his locked door.

Ryan settled back into the passenger's seat, kicking his feet up onto the dash to give an illusion of calm confidence. Underneath his mask, though, he was fuming. How had he let Michael goad him into doing something so profoundly stupid? He gritted his teeth, all the more annoyed by Michael's cocky, grinning face. The man was arrogant, there was no doubt about that, but it only served to elevate him their boss's eyes. Geoff was always grinning at Michael while the other man sucked up to him, while he never spared Ryan a second glance unless he said something untoward. Even then, his only response was disgust or even mild fear. Michael was charismatic where Ryan was silent, almost awkward, and angry where Ryan was eerily calm and logical. He could hate the man for his tendency towards the irrational, but Ryan couldn't deny that he was sometimes jealous of the easy way Michael interacted with others.

Michael fell into the driver's seat easily, pulling his pistol out of his jeans and unto the divider between the seats. He'd only kept one of his guns on their trip today, in case of emergencies. Getting cars was never supposed to be too heavily involved, but protection was important and due to their high-ranking positions, they were wanted by a lot of people. Michael swiftly drove them out from the sidewalk; peeling harshly around a corner and glancing over at Ryan's body moving due to momentum. 

He hissed in annoyance at the still sounding alarm, trailing his fingers across the buttons and searching for the button that would turn the shrill piercing sound off. He kept his main focus on the road, paying close attention to the civilians glancing their way as he started to become frantic for the button. It was embarrassing, Ryan was sitting there, calm and collected; unphased by anything Michael threw at him and where as Michael wasn't worried, he knew they weren't far from the police station and he wasn't in the mood to run from the cops today. His pride refused to allow him to ask the masked man to his right if he knew where the button was.

The still sounding alarm pulled Ryan from his thoughts and he looked over to see Michael pressing buttons on the dashboard almost at random. He snorted as the younger man accidentally turned on the radio, which briefly blared the first few notes of some catchy pop song Ryan vaguely recognized before Michael jabbed the button again.

"Need some help there?" Ryan asked, smirking behind his mask.

 

Michael glared at him for a few seconds, huffing in frustration. He could practically imagine the snide face behind the mask and it angered him to no end. However, the police station was growing closer and their time was growing shorter. They passed another red light, Michael uncaringly speeding past honking horns. Very inconspicuous, Michael, nicely done; he thought irritatedly. 

"Yeah, I've never driven this type before." Michael muttered finally, it was true. He'd been known for driving and stealing cars the most, though more often than not he winded up just driving them into a ditch afterwards; due to Geoff yelling at him about evidence.

Ryan pulled a switchblade from his pocket and reached across Michael, his chest practically resting on the man's legs, and popped open the panel situated to the left of the steering wheel. He examined the wires inside briefly before flicking open the knife and sawing into one of them with practiced ease. The wire snapped and the blaring alarm stopped immediately

Michael eyes went wide when the man opened the switchblade, eyes shining confusion and fear. Michael's breath hitched when Ryan leant across him, hoping it went unnoticed by the other man as he kept his hands locked on the steering wheel, barely avoiding the curb due to the distraction. He glanced down as Ryan opened the panel, realization dawning on him finally as he sliced the wire. Now without the obnoxious alarm in Michael's ears his body visibly relaxed, though a slight blush still remained on his face. Michael tore his attention back to the road, slowing down somewhat so that they could pass by the police station unnoticed.

Ryan pulled back, flashing Michael a smug grin before realizing that the man couldn't see it. "Not too hard, if you know what you're doing," he said, voiced laced with condescension.

When Ryan spoke Michael formed a glare at him quickly, mouth pulling up in a slight snarl at the accusation. "I know what I'm doing, I just didn't want to ruin the fucking cables." Michael seethed, moving an arm to rest on the side of his door, driving the car with only his right.

Ryan raised an eyebrow at reddish tinge of Michael's cheeks, but shrugged it off. It was probably the adrenaline of the heist or simply embarrassment. He settled back in his seat, genuinely relaxed now that he felt in control once more. 

"Yeah, sure. I'm sure you jack alarmed cars for /Geoff/ all the time," he quipped, cringing at the way the their bosses name passed his lips in a less than complimentary tone.

Michael drummed his fingers impatiently on the side of his door, never being the type to just comfortably sit anywhere. Well, that, and trying desperately to will away his blush. Michael glanced over at the tone of the masked man, quietly wondering if the two men were in a debate of some sort. He chose instead to not address the conversation. 

"So where are we supposed to be taking this?" Michael changed the subject easily, bringing his left thumb nail to his mouth to chew on lightly. It was a habit he'd first started at a young age, for nerves, but now drew on unto his adult life as just something to do.

"The back alley off Power Street, behind the Ammu-Nation." Really, Michael should know that already, but Ryan wasn't in the mood to chew him out for it, "Gavin should meet us there with the money, then we drive him to the pier to meet Geoff, Jack, and Ray."

Honestly, Ryan wasn't looking forward to the heist as much as he normally did. He'd only get to shoot someone if something went wrong, otherwise he and Michael were just glorified chauffeurs. But once again, Geoff was the boss and at the end of the night, Ryan would be walking away with a solid 5 grand in his pocket… hopefully.

"Right." Michael nodded, he wasn't sure why he was getting so nervous around the older man. He absolutely should be well aware of where he was driving this to, his momentary lapse causing his nerves to shake up slightly. He masked it well, however, making a few turns and shifting slightly under the silence of the drive. He glanced at Ryan when the man's cell phone began to ring, probably from one of the other guy's.

Ryan dug his vibrating phone out of his pocket, silencing the chorus of standard, polyphonic tones that came from it with a swipe of his finger. The caller ID was blank, but that wasn't unexpected. Ryan had memorized his… well, friends wasn't quite the right word… associates' numbers a long time ago. He didn't want any of their contact information to get into the wrong hands if he was captured or dumb enough to lose his phone. 

He didn't even have time to get out a 'Hello?' before Gavin's familiar, accented voice was buzzing in his ear. "Ryan- bloody hell- I've gotten a bit, erm, caught up-" there was a loud bang and then a distinctly Gavin-esque yelp from the other end of the phone.

"Gavin? Are you alright?" Ryan's brow furrowed, but he didn't let his worry show in his voice.   
"Yeah, fine. Just ran into an old… erm, friend. He's not too happy to see me and-" another bang and then a metallic clang as the bullet, or Ryan assumed it was a bullet, ricocheted off whatever Gavin was using as a shield. 

"Don't worry, he's almost out of bullets. Just got a pistol, I'll be fine. 'M wearing a vest, anyways. Just wanted to let you know I'll be a bit late." Before Ryan could protest and demand the Brit to tell him where he was, the line went dead with a cheery "See you soon!"

Michael glanced at Ryan nervously, only picking up small bits of the british accent. He mouthed a quick "What?" to him as he tried to keep an eye on the road. He groaned when he heard Ryan's question, wondering exactly what Gavin had managed to get himself into this time. He moved a hand to his face, rubbing his cheek nervously while waiting for the conversation to end. Once it did, and Ryan was sliding the phone into his pocket again, Michael was already asking questions. "What happened? Is he okay?"

Ryan grimaced beneath his mask, "He's fine, apparently. Just being shot at. Wouldn't tell me where he was, either. He said that he'd 'be a bit late'." Ryan reached up to comb his fingers through his hair before remembering his attire. It was a nervous habits, and even years of donning a mask half the time he went out in public hadn't cured him of it, "I suppose we'll just have to wait at the rendezvous."

"Fuckin' great." Michael huffed, running a hand across the back of his neck as he pulled into a back alley street. He really didn't feel like sitting here with Ryan for an undetermined amount of time, the man was proving to not be great at conversations and Michael couldn't stand to sit in silence and wait. Once he moved the car to a stop, he rolled the windows down to save them from heat stroke before turning the engine off. He tapped his foot as he picked up his gun, twirling it in his hands.

Ryan moved to take off his mask now that they weren't in any danger of being seen, lifting the black skull over his head and setting it on the dashboard. He ran his hand through his now messy hair, sighing. He hoped Gavin wasn't getting shot to death right now, partly because he genuinely did like the man and partly because it meant losing any cash they were going to earn tonight. He glanced over at Michael, but the man was looking down at the gun in his hands, fiddling with it absently.

Michael hummed softly, fingertips running across the gun as he stared impatiently at the roof of the car. He felt awkward in the car, alone with a man he wasn't usually alone with, and someone who to be frankly honest, scared the shit out of him.. He blinked a few times before setting the gun back on the seat and pulling his phone out of his pocket and absentmindedly beginning to play a game. He avoided Ryan the entire time, obviously unsure of how to handle the situation they were in.

Ryan watched the other man absently, tracking his movements with the practiced eyes of someone who stalked people for a living. Michael's gaze never once strayed over to him and Ryan furrowed his brow at the expression on the other's face. He knew that look… and it made Ryan's heart sink. He'd seen it a thousand times before: from Geoff, from Gavin, even from Ray a couple of times. He'd seen it even when he was a teenager, the other students giving him a wide berth, staring at their feet with that expression on their faces. He'd seen a much more visceral version of it on the faces of those he'd tortured and killed. It was fear- discomfort and fear. 

"You're afraid of me," Ryan said flatly. Not a question, but a statement that he carefully kept devoid of the disappointment he felt… this disappointment and, dare he say, sadness. It was a heavy emotion that Ryan couldn't quite place a name to.

Michael jumped at the sound of the man's voice breaking through the silence. His brown eyes training on the other's blue ones as he arched an eyebrow cooly. He certainly hadn't expected Ryan to react, and truthfully he felt it was a rather cocky statement. 

"No, I'm not." Michael lied calmly, throwing up a charismatic grin. He wasn't sure of the statement, wondering why Ryan even cared at all if he was afraid of him. Michael had seen him plan to torture people before, he had always assumed Ryan had gotten off on the fact that people were scared of him, why else would someone wear a mask so much?

Ryan shook his head, "Yes, you are." He kept his voice emotionless, going even as far as to put a hard edge on it, "You think I don't know what it looks like? I can /tell/. Don't lie to me, Michael." 

He wasn't sure why he was so instant that Michael admit it. Perhaps it was simply the fact that he loathed being lied to, but perhaps what Ryan really wanted an explanation.

Michael rolled his eyes in frustration, dropping his smile and getting annoyed at the tone the man was taking with him. He was sure the man was talking down to him now, noticing the hint of argumentativeness in his voice that prepared Michael for a verbal fight. He shrugged his shoulders uncaringly. 

"Yeah, so what?" Michael challenged, turning his body slightly to keep his eyes steady with Ryan's.

Ryan was a bit surprised at the other mans confrontational approach, though perhaps he shouldn't have been. It was Michael after all; the man tended to default towards anger, fight rather than flee. He cocked his head to the side, a motion that revealed more of his true feelings than his tone of voice did, "Why?"

Michael gauged the man's reactions for a moment, furrowing his brows in confusion. He sighed softly once he noticed the man wasn't going to mock him for it. "I don't know, cause you act creepy dude. I don't know anything about you, and you wear that fuckin' mask all the time." 

Michael shrugged, he wanted to add on the fact that he was intimidating; but figured it was better not to express his weaknesses towards the guy. Ryan was quite the talk around the town and Michael had honestly heard it all, from he was a serial killer to he used to own a farm. He had no idea what was true or false when it came to him.

Ryan scrubbed his face absently with one hand. It was hardly the answer he wanted, though he wasn't quite sure what would have been. 'Creepy' was an abstract term and he wore his mask to protect his identity; honestly, he didn't know why the rest of the crew tended not to cover their faces.

So Ryan latched onto the only piece of the explanation he could; "What do you want to know?"

Michael was a little shocked by his invitation to ask what he wanted, he certainly hadn't expected the offer from someone who remained so inconspicuous. He had multitudes of questions lined up, one's he'd discussed with Gavin and Ray on late night adventures, or one's he'd prompted Geoff to let him in on.

For some reason, however, Michael could barely come up with one as he watched Ryan's face hesitantly. "Why'd you join Geoff's gang? There are plenty in LS." Michael asked lamely, mentally cursing himself for not coming up with a question about the man's past, or if all the allegations of him murdering people and eating them were true.

Ryan shrugged and looked down, pulling off a glove and picking absently at his nails. "No particular reason, I guess, except for the fact that Geoff asked me to. I… needed a purpose, not to mention cash. Geoff found me, said he had a gang and I'd be paid well if I was useful. Apparently having my kind of reputation doesn't scare everybody off, though it does most people," he left his answer vague, hoping that much might sate Michael, though he doubted it.

"What about your life? Do you have a family? Friends?" Michael prompted, greedily taking in the information and absentmindedly leaning closer to him. He wasn't sure why he had such an intense need to know as much about this man as possible, but he did.

Ryan glanced up, noting how close Michael was. It was odd, but didn't make him feel uncomfortable. His question, however, did. "I- No. I don't, not really," Ryan said shifting in his seat. He hadn't had friends for a long time now, and family… that was a whole other can of worms entirely. One that Michael probably didn't want to know about and he was loath to tell him.

"So you weren't a serial killer prior to the gang?" Michael asked curiously, raising an eyebrow as he leant backwards slightly, noticing the man's posture and taking it for him being uncomfortable by the distance. 

"You don't have to answer any more, if you don't want to." Michael scratched his arm absentmindedly, glancing forwards and scanning his eyes across the buildings before turning his attention once more to the man.

Ryan shook his head, "No, it's fine. I… don't want you to be afraid of me," he said the last in the same, almost flat tone of voice he'd been speaking in the entire conversation, but softer. Almost as if he himself was scared, or at least uncomfortable, admitting it.

"As for the serial killer thing… no. I killed people, but…" Ryan glanced away, cutting himself off, "I killed people."

Michael smiled charismatically, slightly hesitant due to the man's reactions, noticing the softer tone and uncharacteristic persona that was surrounding the normally harsh man. "Well, we've all killed people, it's hard to escape that." Michael shrugged, clearing his throat with a cough. "Uh, thanks for uh, y'know admitting all of this.." Michael muttered awkwardly, running a hand across the back of his neck.

Ryan cocked an eyebrow, mentally readjusting his persona to resemble the harsh, confident, and logical exterior he usually wore, "I'm not really all that closed off. You just never asked. Too worried about the whole 'tortures people for a living' thing, I suppose," he threw on a smirk for good measure, but it didn't quite fit.

Michael sighed loudly, moving to prop his foot up on the seat and glance over at him. "Can you really blame me for being scared?” Michael muttered, nervously glancing at the steering wheel. "I mean, you never really act like you like us, or anything..."

The smirk slid off of Ryan's face like butter and his eyes grew cold, "You're my… associates. I don't dislike you either." He mentally chastised himself for opening up at all, because this was the core of it: he was Ryan the psychopath, Ryan the loner, Ryan the outsider. He hadn't even told them his real name. Distance… was for the best, really. One day, possibly one day soon, Michael would die, as would the other members of their crew. It was inevitable in this line of work, and when it happened, he didn't want to be close enough that it hurt. Because then he would get sloppy or want revenge, and what was the point of having friends if they would lead to grief and possibly his own death. Ryan would much rather glide along through life, doing what he pleased… alone.

Michael nodded, quieting down and leaving it at that. He didn't want to press Ryan anymore, and he definitely didn't want to bother the man in any way. He slid his hand across the gun to his right and continued his nervous tapping. 

"Uh, well... nevermind then." Michael glanced across the buildings. "Should we look for him or something?

Ryan checked the time on his phone; Gavin should have been there ten minutes ago according to schedule. Even with his hold up, he probably should have arrived by now, "I'd give him five more minutes before we panic. It's Gavin, he could have gotten lost or something."

Michael gnawed on his lip, running a hand through his hair. "He would've called us, yeah?" He couldn't help getting a little nervous, having gone a while without so much as a contact from the other guy's, he was growing impatient and unable to sit still.

Ryan pursed his lips, "Perhaps," he glanced over at Michael's fidgeting form and gave in, "I suppose we /could/ look for him, if you'd like." He didn't like seeing the other man nervous like this; he knew how much of a bond Michael and Gavin had and how much either would be devastated to lose the other. In fact, it was one of his main references when it came to the pitfalls of relationships. Gavin was clumsy and occasionally astonishingly stupid, but Michael always stuck up for 'his boi' and it had led the two into more than one sticky situation.

Michael was about to respond when his phone buzzed, pulling the phone from his pocket he opened the text message, glaring down at a minute before shoving the phone into Ryan's hand, which read "found a top bike, took that instead, meet you there.' Michael huffed, rolling up the windows and turning on the engine. "That fucker." He grumbled, but relaxing against the seat anyway. At least he was alive.

Ryan rolled his eyes; Gavin Free was practically the definition of unprofessional. "Alright, let's go then," he said, picking up his mask from the dash and slipping it over his head once more and actually buckling his seatbelt this time.

Michael pulled out of the alleyway, turning the corner sharply and peeling off in the direction they needed to go. He ran a hand across the steering wheel, moving the other to rest on his gun as he eyed a black tinted car parking sneakily in an alleyway they were just about to pass. 

"Do you think?" Michael started to ask, turning his head to glance at the other man.

"Do I think what?" Ryan asked, voice once again slightly muffled by the mask.

"Fuck me." Michael grunted as they sped past the alleyway. He glanced in the rearview mirror, only to see the car following closely behind them. "Can you get a clear look at them?" Michael asked, trying to keep his eyes on the road, and the other car.

Ryan looked around and cursed his inattentiveness under his breath, "Shit. Doesn't look like police, but that isn't necessarily a good thing." He chewed his lip thoughtfully, "The way I see it, we have two options: either lose 'em or fight 'em. I know a warehouse near here we can lead them to if we choose the latter," Ryan had always been good at coming up with plans in the spur of the moment, but the fact that he had no idea who the people in the car behind them were or what their intentions were worried him.

"I don't think I can lose them, we're already running low on gas." Michael muttered, keeping an eye on the rear view mirror; grimacing when the guys pulled out a gun. "And I don't think they'd exactly want a soda from the gas station." Michael grumbled sarcastically. "Did you bring any guns?"

Ryan snorted, "Is that even a question?" He reached into the back of his pants, pulling out a semiautomatic pistol with a grin that was concealed behind his mask, "I have a case of ammo in my jacket pocket, too." Eyeing the intersection ahead of them, he motioned for Michael to turn right, "The warehouse is this way. If we're quick enough, we might be able to get the drop on them."

Michael turned the car right, tires squealing as the rounded the corner. "Can you get out a text to the others?" He glanced nervously behind them for a second, dodging a few corners as he maneuvered the car.

Ryan nodded, before realizing that Michael was probably too busy dodging vehicles to look at him, "Sure." He pulled out his phone, typing in Geoff's number and quickly sending a message reading 'Some assholes on our tail. Will hopefully be at the pier in under an hour. Gav's headed your way on a bike' before making sure the safety on his gun was off.

Michael made a few more turns, noticing the warehouse and parking in front of it. He stopped the car completely, grabbing his gun off the divider and opening the driver's side door, sliding out of it.

Ryan followed suit, grabbing Michael's hand and pulling him towards the side door of the warehouse. This was no time for dancing around physical contact; they needed to get in, get up the stairs, and to a vantage point where they could easily shoot their pursuers, and if that meant Ryan had to drag Michael along to get him to go fast enough, so be it.

Michael glanced down at their hands, but shook his head; willing himself to stay focused on the problem at hand. This was not the time to think about his possible adoration for his co-worker, his co-criminal at that. He jogged along, nearly tripping up the stairs but catching himself in time to get properly situated.

Ryan yanked more insistently on Michael's hand as they jogged up the stairs; speed was of the utmost importance if they were to get the drop on their pursuers. When they reached the balcony, Ryan dropped the other man's hand and crouched down, sticking the barrel of his pistol though the bars and aimed towards the double doors marking the warehouse's main entrance. He motioned for Michael to do the same, not taking his eyes off the door.

Michael followed Ryan's lead quickly, a trained fast reaction time from all his time on he sits and other criminal activity. He knew at any moment this could be life or death. He crouched down, balancing on one foot and leaning his knee on the concrete. He easily stuck his pistol in between the bars as well, giving Ryan a slight smirk as the adrenaline hit his core.

The older man shook his head slightly at Michael's cockiness and quickly retrained his gaze on the double doors which were beginning to creak open. He held up a hand, a silent "not yet". He wanted to wait until they had a clear shot at these fuckers.

Michael nodded, licking his lips in concentration as he watched the guys move around. They weren't cops, that was for sure. They had more than a few illegal weapons, and it only took a few minutes for Michael to recognize one of their well-known rival gangs.

Ryan gritted his teeth at the impressive array of weaponry. One man, the leader judging from the orders he was barking at the other two, had an assault rifle in his hands that he held it with the steady, practiced air of an experienced marksman. The other two were holding guns of slightly lesser caliber, but even they were better than the pistols he and Michael had between them.

"What do we do?" Michael whispered lowly, keeping his voice at an octave they couldn't hear. He wasn't exactly great at stealth, but they definitely couldn't face them head on. They weren't just outnumbered, they were used to that, they could handle that. They were out powered.

"I'll take out the guy in front, you go for the woman with the handgun," Ryan hissed, "Hopefully we can take them out in just a few shots and the other one will be too surprised to fire back right away." He hoped he sounded more confident than he felt; they'd be lucky to get out of this mess alive. He resolved that if anyone was going down, it would be Michael, wincing slightly at his willingness to sacrifice the other man for his own survival. But then again, that was the way Ryan operated. He was selfish and cowardly to the core if it meant living.

"Alright. Sounds like a plan." Michael nodded, taking a second to close his eyes and take a deep breath; it wasn't like he hadn't risked his life before. They could do this, they'd done plenty of insane things. Everything was going to be fine, Michael had to trust that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There's death and torture in this chapter. 
> 
> Read on with caution!

The leader paced the floor below, surveying the warehouse. Ryan tracked his movements with his gun, hissing a soft "Now!" to Michael when the man stopped, and pulled the trigger. The shot rang out loudly in the large space, the echo ricocheting off the walls as the bullet Ryan had fired sank into his target's shoulder. Ryan cursed, squeezing out a few more rounds and the man dropped, whether stunned or dead he didn't know.

The moment Michael heard Ryan's voice he pulled the trigger, stopping the woman's search near the boxes. He grunted when his first shot missed, hitting just to the left of her, before re-shooting and this time targeting her directly in the chest. He automatically continued firing to where the men had ducked behind boxes and other various forms of shields.

Ryan glanced to his left and saw Michael firing round after round at the last man, who had managed to shield himself behind a rather heavy packing crate. Ryan pulled his extra case of ammo out of the pocket he'd sewn into the inside of his leather jacket and placed it next to Michael before sliding past him and down the stairs. He considered simply making a break for it, running out the side door and taking their attackers' vehicle, leaving Michael to deal with the situation. But no, Geoff would never forgive him if the younger man died on Ryan's watch. So he slipped through the warehouse's main entrance soundlessly, stealthily approaching the now-bullet-riddled crate.

Michael had turned to press his back against the cover when he noticed Ryan was gone, huffing in annoyance and glancing down at the extra ammo the man had left. His breathing was heavy as he continued to lean out of cover occasionally to fire wildly at the group of men, dodging a few too many bullets as he pulled back. He exchanged the clip, reloading, when he glanced up just in time to see one of the men climbing the stairs. Michael shot at the person, missing a few times before finally laying a painful bullet into the man's thigh. He grimaced at the realization he was now challenged with watching the stairs and trying to hold off the group downstairs.

Ryan laid out the man hiding behind the crate, smashing the butt of his gun into the man's head. He dropped, unconscious and bleeding from the head wound. Ryan turned to see Michael fending off two attackers on the stairs. He stared down the barrel of his gun, aiming for the head of the woman closest to his partner. He squeezed the trigger and she went down with a heavy thud.

Michael easily pulled the trigger and shot down the next guy, he no longer had time to focus on the guys still in the main room, and was preoccupied with shooting the people walking up the stairs before they could get in a clean shot on him. He smirked when the girl went down, seemingly of her own accord and was content to know that Ryan had no in fact deserted him at all.

Ryan felt a stinging pain in his shoulder and whirled around. A man with a deeply tanned scarred face stood behind him, gun aimed straight at his head. Ryan ducked as the man fired another shot and barreled into him, flicking out his switchblade as he ran and driving it into the man's stomach. He worked quickly, systematically working over the man with the blade until he was nothing but a mess of blood and pain, scream quickly fading to a gurgle as Ryan slit his throat.

Michael managed a shot to the other one rounding the stairs, dropping onto the ground instantly; Michael mentally applauded himself. He'd noticed the figure near the stairs and moved to raise his gun again, waiting for the right moment and cringing when he noticed his ammo was gone. He glanced at the bullets going past his head, the woman's cusses meeting his ears as she told him to face her. Michael rolled his eyes, picking up a solid object to his left and chucking it at her. He couldn't help the laugh that escaped his throat when she fell, frantically trying to grab her gun that she'd amateurishly dropped. Michael slid from his cover, stepping on the gun to prevent her from grabbing it before picking up the gun and swiveling it in his hand.

Panting slightly from the exertion, Ryan turned back towards the stairs to see Michael pointing one of their attacker's own gun at her. "Wait," he called out, voice slightly ragged, "Don't shoot her. We need someone to question."

Ryan looked down at the switchblade in his hand, coated in blood just like the rest of him. He wiped it on his jacket, though he didn't know why. It would probably being seeing a lot more use in the near future.

Michael glanced up, eyebrows raising at the sight of Ryan covered in blood and breathing heavily. He removed his finger off the trigger, lowering the gun slowly and sending the woman a warning glance. He gazed the man up and down for a moment before grinning. "So, you didn't abandon me."

"The thought… occurred to me," Ryan admitted, unwrapping the twine from one of the nearby crates and tugging it experimentally. Once satisfied that it would hold, he scanned the warehouse for a chair, spotting a weak-looking, plastic one in the corner. He dragged it to the center of the room, motioning for Michael to lead the woman to it and holding the twine out to him.

Michael kept an eye on the cold-eyed woman, only glancing back at Ryan occasionally. When he brought the chair forward, Michael grew hesitant though he'd never show it in front of them. He really wasn't big on questioning, or interrogating anyone, he didn't like the fear that came off of them. 

Geoff usually only brought him in if he needed someone to try to get an argument out of, Michael was good at pushing people's buttons and bringing out the worst of them. However, strapping them to a chair and scaring the shit out of them really wasn't his forte. Never the less he pushed the woman into the chair, and took the twine from Ryan; handing him the gun so that he could tie her up correctly. 

Ryan's fingers itched. That was the only way he knew to describe the feeling. It was as if there was something inside of him: pushing, urging, pressing against his fingertips, desperate to get out. Still, he hesitated, glancing up from his now clean switchblade to Michael's reluctant face. And there it was again… fear. Perhaps not fear of Ryan, but fear of what he was about to do. Fear of the way he could so easily twist a person's mind until they were nothing but pain that they would give anything to end. In some ways, it was a power trip. Which wasn't to say that Ryan enjoyed it… He simply found it… necessary. He needed to release the thing pressing itself against the tips of his fingers as much as Geoff needed the information he extracted from his victims.

But no one on the crew had ever seen Ryan work before. It was a private, intimate affair that left him bloody, sated, and with an annoying corpse to dispose of, not to mention the memories of the screams echoing in his brain. He usually went home smiling, relieved to have the pressure on his brain relieved, if only temporarily. He didn't want Michael to see that side of him, the man who needed to kill.

Michael finished tying her up then, moving out of the way when she attempted to spit on him. Michael couldn't blame her to say the least, the last time he'd ended up in a position like this he'd done the exact same thing, well that and cussed them out untill Ray had come to his rescue. He peeked up at Ryan then.. As far as he could tell, Ryan simply hadn't had any reaction and he certainly found it endearing that the man was so calm about the situation. He knew, of course, that Ryan was the go to guy for this, but he'd never stuck around to see exactly what the man had done. Michael rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, stretching his back slightly to relieve the tension.

"You can go, if you'd like," Ryan said, schooling his tone into one of casual indifference. He didn't want Michael to see this, if he didn't want to. If he did, however, Ryan certainly wouldn't stop him. He'd occasionally wondered what it would be like to share the intimacy of torture with someone other than his victims, who never really appreciated it, due to the searing pain, of course. He began circling the chair, searching for the optimum place to begin.

Michael was torn, part of him wanted to wait outside; call Geoff and explain what was happening, to tell him that they'd be there soon. But in the same instance, Michael was shockingly curious about this side of Ryan. 

"No, I'll stay." Michael shrugged, as if it didn't matter to him at all. He didn't want to look cowardly in Ryan's eyes, so he pulled a crate and sat down; crossing his arms over his chest and yawning as if he could actually be tired after all of this.

Ryan snorted at Michael's fake yawn, and the way he tried to look casual. His eyes gave it away though, tracking Ryan's movements intently. The older man finished another circuit around the chair before crouching down in front of it, looking up at the woman. He knew that through the mask, the only thing she'd be able to see were his eyes, cold and intimidating. "What's your name?" he asked, his voice calm and almost friendly; it threw people off.

Michael brought his hand to his mouth, chewing on his thumb nail nervously as he watched the man work. He squinted slightly as the man's voice echoed across the room; intense and pleasant enough to even confuse It was clear that she'd played this game before, however; when her mouth didn't even open in response to Ryan, instead looking the other way and turning her chin up.

Ryan clucked his tongue and shook his head, "Well, obviously you're not going to be any fun. Skip right over the pleasantries then, shall we?" He traced the blade of his knife over her cheek slowly, almost a caress, before slashing the skin in one quick, fluid movement. The cut wasn't deep, but it was precise and cut into the flesh enough that it had to sting like a bitch.

Michael winced when the blade made contact, eyes going wide as he continued to eye Ryan curiously. He didn't feel as afraid as he supposed he should have. The woman, however, cried out sharply when the blade hit, cutting it off quickly and grinding her teeth instead. 

"So, what's your name?" Ryan repeated in that same calm, pleasant voice. One could practically hear him smiling, through his mask obscured all facial movement except for the way the skin around his eyes crinkled. The woman didn't answer, and he cut into her again, the other cheek this time, leaving her with two symmetrical red lines on either side of her face.

The red lines opened up, crimson dots starting to slide down her face; smeared only by her tears continuing to fall. Michael couldn't help leaning forward, crossed arms resting on his knees as he gnawed unto his bottom lip. He was glancing between the two then, only breaking to look at Ryan's steady grip on the blade. Michael was sure he'd have been shaking, even if he did like it, the adrenaline would've gotten to him by now. Hell it already was and he wasn't even doing anything.

When she still didn't answer, only hissing out a pained breath, Ryan regretted tying her so tightly to the chair. What he wanted to do now was take one of her arms and slice into in front of her, making her watch as the blood dripped from the wound. He couldn't even walk behind her, doing so would break the intimacy of the moment, the eye contact. Instead, he traced his blade over her collarbone, nicking it slightly as he carelessly dragged the knife along her skin. He paused, positioning the knife over the fleshy muscle of her right shoulder, letting her feel the too cold tip press into her flesh, "What's your name?"

Michael blinked a few times before squinting his eyes at them again, he wasn't sure if he felt sick or if he wanted to get closer. His mind was all over the place as he watched with disturbed fascination, wiping his sweaty palms across his jeans. His knee was bouncing as he grew antsy and unsure. He let out a breath quietly, eyes scanning across the knife that Ryan was using to press into her skin.

 

The woman still wouldn't look at him, but she hissed out a harsh, "Kate," obviously hoping that complying would get Ryan to let up for a moment, Instead, the masked man punctured her arm, twisting the blade in between muscle in bone in a way that made her let out a sharp cry.

"Hello, Kate. It's a shame we had to meet this way. I just have a few questions for you," Ryan's voice was almost a purr, belying the nature of what he was doing. He sounded as if he was seducing a lover rather than torturing a woman tied to a chair, "Who do you work for?"

Michael's eyes widened when the woman let out a cry, sitting up straighter instinctively. He hadn't taken his eyes off of Ryan, however; focusing only on the masked man and his entire approach to the situation. Once Ryan continued talking to her, he'd bitten his lip harsh enough to split it, choosing to grit his teeth instead. It was only a few seconds before he couldn't take sitting there anymore and he stood up a little too sharply.

Ryan caught the movement in the corner of his eye, turning his head slightly. He made sure not to move his switchblade from where it was situated inside his victim, whose eyes were already leaking tears, "Something wrong?" he asked, still utterly calm.

Ryan was in the zone now, that place where he was in control of everyone and everything. Michael, however, was a new and unknown variable. If the older man wasn't careful, it was very possible that he could upset the balance of the entire situation.

Michael blinked a few times in silence before finally realizing what he'd said. "Uh, no." Michael shook his head, running a hand across the back of his neck and coughing quietly. He took to staring at his shoes then, digging his heel into the ground and trying to avoid the eyes of the woman.

Ryan pulled his knife out of the woman's arm quickly, eliciting a cry of pain from her. He paid it no mind, wiping the blade on his pants before flicking it closed and stuffing it back into his pocket. He began to walk towards the warehouse doors, twitching his fingers to indicate that Michael should follow him. He didn't want to have this discussion in front of… Kate, that's what she had said her name was. The mask he put up for his victims was metaphorical as well as literal, and he didn't want her to hear him interacting with anyone else. It ruined the complete control he had over her, over her perceptions.

Michael followed him willingly, glancing at her as he passed swiftly. He stuck his hands in his pockets, growing a little worried about exactly what Ryan wanted to talk about. He probably should've just stayed outside when he'd gotten the chance, but his curiosity was eating away at him. He didn't know if he was going to be able to explain anything to Ryan, or even talk to the man with the way his mind was running from subject to subject. He could tell his body was shaking slightly when they finally stopped their walk.

Ryan leaned back against the outside wall of the warehouse, pulling off his mask so that he could stare at the other man more intently, "What's wrong?" His tone left little room for argument, and his strict posture, complete with arms crossed over his chest, dared Michael to deny his discomfort. 

Michael scratched the back of his head lightly, placing his other hand on his hip and cocking it to the side slightly. Hiis eyes met the other man's before glancing off in the other direction. 

"I don't know." Michael hated to admit it, he didn't want to cause a problem for Ryan and interrupting him during an interrogation wasn't professional in the slightest. And yet here he was, unsure of himself and his entire persona and acting like a needy child.

Ryan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, "Look I don't like this anymore than you do…" A lie. A filthy, dirty lie and he knew it, but there was nothing else to say, really. Was he supposed to tell Michael about his routine, the way he systematically tore people apart because if he didn't, /he/ would be the one lying on the floor, mind broken and body bloodied. No, that was Ryan's secret, his glorious burden to bare. So he just stopped the sentence there, leaving the end of it hanging in the air, unfulfilled.

Michael let the disbelief show clearly on his face. "We didn't have to question her." He supplied, shrugging his shoulders and resisting the urge to grab hold of the man's hand. The fresh air was doing him good either way, and his shaking had slowed down as well as his nervous breathing.

Ryan raised an eyebrow, "Oh, really? You think Geoff would have been okay with no explanation, no reason? When I was on the team that got attacked? I'm Mister Interrogation; it's expected. Not to mention the fact that I'm pretty sure the RWBY gang hasn't been on our asses before now."

Michael furrowed his eyebrows, not enjoying the tone Ryan was giving him; one that quite frankly made Michael feel talked down to. Whether his first response was wrong or not, the stubbornness in him stuck to it. "Interrogation doesn't involve impaling someone, /after/ they've given you an answer."

"And who have /you/ interrogated before?" Ryan hissed. Honestly, he was more than a bit annoyed that Michael, of all people, was questioning his tactics. He stood up to his full height, towering over the younger man, less physically then mentally. Ryan's face was a mask of professional calm, but his eyes sparked with an odd mixture of anger and something else it was hard to put a finger on. He stepped closer to Michael, hands balled into fists in the pockets of his leather jacket.

Michael took a step back automatically, glancing up at Ryan as his breath hitched. "How do you know I haven't?" He countered back; obviously angry at the fact that Ryan could just make assumptions like that. Just because he hadn't while he was in their gang, didn't mean he hadn't ever. He hadn't, of course, but Ryan didn't know that.

This was a good distraction for Michael, if anything; he was no longer focusing on his disturbed fascination with the interrogation and was putting it off on Ryan. It wasn't exactly the right thing to do, but Michael was well aware of his faults.

Ryan scoffed, "It's written all over your face. I know you aren't squeamish, but when we walked out of that room your were practically shaking. So either you can't stand knives, which I know for a fact isn't the case, or you've never tortured someone in your life." He was stepping forwards as he spoke, and by the time the last sentence passed his lips, he was almost chest-to-chest with Michael, "Or maybe you're just scared of me."

Michael glared back, eyes squinting in annoyance with the fact that Ryan could read people well. Or maybe Michael was just an open book, he wasn't sure. Michael swallowed as the man got closer, eyes watching his lips before glancing back up to his eyes. Michael figured he could've backed up, but Ryan was clearly challenging him and he certainly wasn't one to back down from any sort of challenge. 

He couldn't help the laugh that escaped his throat. "I'm not scared of you."

The cocky way Michael laughed made Ryan want to pull the switchblade from his pants pocket and trace it over the planes of his face, see how 'not scared' he was then. But that wasn't the point of this little game, and he doubted the other man would forgive him for something he would see as a blatant treat.

So instead, he hissed a soft, yet confident, "Prove it," letting anger seep into his voice for the first time all day.

Michael's reaction was fast, much like his entire persona he was impatient and didn't think about his actions as he grabbed at the collar of Ryan's shirt, stepping closer and shoving their lips together harshly. He didn't consider the fact that he didn't even know Ryan's sexuality, and he was pretty sure that after the kiss was over the man would tie him to a chair and torture him, but at least he'd had a pretty good run.

It took Ryan a moment to process what was happening. Suddenly there were warm, slightly chapped lips on his and while it wasn't necessarily an unpleasant feeling, it was most certainly unexpected. But then his instincts took over and he was wrapping an around Michael waist, harshly pulling him closer, and threading fingers through the younger man's curly, auburn hair. He swiped his tongue over Michael's lower lips and bit down, tugging at it roughly. He wasn't thinking at this point, he was simply the product of the raw tension that had built up over the course of the heist, perhaps longer, finally finding an outlet.

 

Michael smirked into the kiss when Ryan finally responded, shivering at the contact and counting it as a successful win for himself. Michael wound an arm up and around Ryan's neck, scratching at the skin and groaning when Ryan pulled him closer. He responded to the bites and opened his mouth, pushing his lips fervently against the older man’s. Even in a situation like this he was bouncy, his body constantly moving against the other’s own. He pulled back for air then, pecking soft kisses across Ryan's face.

Ryan spun the two of them around so that Michael's back was to the wall, and held him there. He moved his attention from Michael's lips to his neck, biting and sucking roughly at the skin.

Michael felt the wall grate roughly against his back, paying no mind to the scratches he was receiving from the concrete and instead focusing on Ryan's mouth, lolling his head back to give the man better access as the man continued his torture across his neck. 

Ryan wasn't mindful of the stubble smattered across his jaw, only noticing the raw, red skin when he pulled back to admire his handiwork. That was when the reality of the situation hit him, and while half of Ryan's brain wanted nothing more than to shove the wiggling younger man against the wall and let him rut against his leg until Michael came in his pants, the other half was shocked and more than a bit confused. /Where had that come from?/

Michael gnawed on his teeth, letting out a quiet whine when Ryan pulled back. He glanced forward again, face flushed and red as he waited for Ryan to say something. "What?" Michael demanded, taking on a defensive air as he worried about the man's reaction. This was a stupid idea, he should have never acted as impulsively as he did.

Ryan let go of the younger man's shoulders and stepped back, brow furrowed. His mind was still working double time, trying to process all that had just happened. Michael had kissed him. Ryan had kissed him back, and liked it. Michael had too, judging by the tented fabric of his jeans. There was still a hostage inside the warehouse, slowly bleeding out from the knife wound in her arm. Fuck… Things were rapidly getting out of his control, and Ryan didn't like it. So instead of answering Michael's question, he replied with one of his own: "Why?"

Michael pulled at his pants, shifting uncomfortably as he tried to catch his breath. He rolled his neck, stretching the muscles before sighing at Ryan's question. "I'm not scared of you." Michael shrugged simply, bringing his thumb nail back to his mouth and chewing on it.

"… What?" Ryan began to chuckle. The younger man's answer was so ludicrous that he couldn't contain his laughter as it spilled from his lips, evolving into a full blown guffaw. "You- that's the best way you could think of to prove it? By /kissing/ me?" Ryan wiped at the corners of his eyes, that were streaming tears.

 

Michael glared at him in response, huffing in confusion as he squinted his eyes at the man. He didn't understand exactly what Ryan found so funny about this situation. Though the laughter falling from the man was nice, Michael wasn't really thrilled at being the reason. "What's so funny about that?" He countered, crossing his arms over his chests and standing taller.

"We- we practically loathe each other! And then we get put on this god damn mission, have a heart-to heart in the fucking car, almost get murdered, and to top it off you watched me torture someone! Well, not really. I was just getting started, but… You kissed me," Ryan was still giggling, almost hysterical at this point. He wasn't sure what made this situation so damn funny. Perhaps the laughter was a coping mechanism, the small, still-rational part of his brain mused.

Michael stood there for a second letting the words sink in before shrugging matter of factly. He put up his front, the one that echoed the fact that he just didn't give a fuck. It was something Michael had always tried to reflect, something he always tried to show even as he watched the man giggle, albeit a little insanely. He arched an eyebrow, deciding silence might just be the best option.

After a moment, Ryan's laughter died down and he simply stared at the other man, an amused expression on his face. Michael was staring him as if he was a pile of dirty dishes in an overfull sink: not particularly useful, but something that needed to be dealt with none the less. The older man shook his head, scooping his mask up from the ground where he'd dropped it and settling it over his face once more. He smoothed his now slightly rumpled jacket, still stained with dark, sticky patches of blood, and turned back towards the warehouse entrance. He shot a look over his shoulder, curious to see if Michael was going to follow him.

Michael took a deep breath; hands moving to stick into his pockets as he walked forward with the masked man. He supposed he could've stayed outside, but the intense curiosity to see how Ryan would end the interrogation had him following eagerly. He paid no mind to his messy hair, as he gnawed on his lip; eyes scanning across Ryan for a moment.

Ryan grinned underneath his mask when Michael followed him, glad that he hadn't scared the other man off just yet. The grin quickly melted into a frown, however, when he saw their captive had passed out from blood loss, her head lolling to the side limply. He gripped her chin firmly in one hand and backhanded her across the face with the other. The woman came to with a pained moan and Ryan smiled down at her, though she was probably too out of it to notice the way his eyes crinkled. 

"Hello again… Didn't think you could get out of this that easily, did you, hmm?" Just like that, Ryan was back in his element, the very pitch of his words precisely controlled to display nothing but calm confidence and perhaps a hint of underlying malice.

Michael moved to lean against one of the pillars, ignoring the pain when his scratches from earlier rubbed against the concrete. He jumped when the slap echoed through the room, eyes peeking up at the two forms. He watched the woman's eyes open, finding himself more and more interested in her reaction. Once Ryan started talking, Michael's attention was back on the masked man; falling so easily into the intimidation role. He couldn't help shifting slightly, bringing a foot to rest up on the pillar he was leaning against.

Ryan pulled his switchblade out of his pocket once again, chuckling when the woman flinched as he flicked it open. He held her by her right shoulder with one hand, thumb digging into the open wound there and making her his in pain. He traced the planes of her face with the knife blade languidly, pausing to circle in close around her eye sockets and reveling in the way her breathing became more labored, pupils blown wide with fear. "Who do you work for?”

Michael swallowed heavily as he watched the switchblade flick open. Once he saw the man's thumb dig deeper into her wound, he took to glancing at his shoe laces. He could feel his body fuel with anticipation and adrenaline as he waited for her response. This was the moment that would most likely break the entire scenario, if she told him, the interrogation was over and he didn't assume Ryan would be too inclined to just let her go. On the other hand, if she didn't Ryan would probably do something even Michael didn't think he'd be able to forget anytime soon.

The woman simply bit her lip, staring at Ryan defiantly. He sighed, shaking his head in disappointment, and positioned his knife more firmly beneath her eyeball, preparing to the blade in between it and the socket, ready to pop it out of her skull like an overripe grape being squeezed from its skin. However, the woman obviously sensed what he was about to do and let out a strangled, "Wait!"

Michael's eyes widened when he realized exactly what Ryan was about to do, gnawing on his lip and leaning closer subconsciously. He lifted his eyebrows up when she screamed out, shock clearly falling over his features. He'd never assumed she would've admitted to anything and he felt himself leaning off of the wall and beginning to step closer to hear what she said more clearly.

"I- I work for a gang called RWBY- don't know who the boss is, never met him. I'm nothing, low on the food chain, I fucking swear to you, please-" She was babbling now, as if the words had been building up inside of her as Ryan worked, spilling over the edge in a torrent, "I don't know anything! I just do as I'm told, kill who they want me to kill. Fuck- I have a kid, man! Don't do this to m-"  
Ryan shushed her, holding the blade of his knife to her lips in a way that seemed almost mocking, a parody of the childlike index-finger-to-your-mouth motion.

Michael had been watching her intently as she told them the information, taking a few hesitant steps forward. He only turned his attention back to the masked man when the blade appeared at her lips. He held his breath while waiting for the man's reaction, wondering if he was indeed about to do what he was thinking.

"How.. disappointing. But don't worry, it's going to be over soon," Ryan smiled encouragingly at her, thought the expression was hidden by the mask covering his face.

Michael blinked his eyes closed when Ryan first spoke, taking a hesitant breath before watching Ryan move to silence the woman.

He slid easily around the back of the chair, thumb still putting pressure on the woman's shoulder wound ever so slightly. He held his switchblade to her throat, wishing he could tug off his gloves and really feel the silky sweet warmth of her skin and the pulse beating frantically in her throat. But no, that would leave fingerprints and Ryan was nothing but careful, even in moments like these. So he simply stood there for a moment, imagining it and fully taking in what sensations he could, covering the woman's mouth with a hand as she began to whimper. 

Then in one, swift movement he pulled the knife across her throat, smiling as her warm blood spilled over his fingers and her muffled whines turned to gurgled sounds as she choked on the liquid. And there it was, the sweeping sensation of release. It swept Ryan up, more thrilling than any drug he'd ever experienced, clearing his senses more than simple adrenaline ever could. He was giddy, relieved, and all-powerful as the life drained from this useless creature's body and over Ryan's fingertips. Then her body went limp and Ryan sighed, slowly coming down from the high and letting the rest of the world- the part that wasn't blood and flesh and the blade of his knife- seep back into his awareness.

Michael stood there, feeling a little lost in himself as he observed Ryan's face and then the knife. He put a hand to his face, rubbing his cheek as Ryan sliced the blade against her; Michael took count of her eyes, staring at the orbs as they flashed fear and pain before emptying out all together. Michael tore his eyes away from the body and to Ryan's, staring at him with still curious brown eyes.

Michael was staring at him- that was the first thing that Ryan became aware of as he came out of his trance like state. He stared back, bright blue eyes simultaneously hazy with the thrill of the kill, yet clearer than they had been all day. His hands were still on the lifeless corpse of his victim, and Ryan dropped the one covering her mouth to her throat, dragging his gloved fingertips through the bloody mess there, before withdrawing entirely. He wiped his switchblade on his now thoroughly stained jeans before pocketing it, all the while not taking his eyes off Michael's.

Michael shivered under the stare, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck as he watched Ryan retreat from the body. He was still unsure of everything and it was weird to think just minutes before she was alive, Michael had killed people of course; during battles and gang wars and such, but interrogation was a completely different thing and he suddenly felt very self-conscious under Ryan's gaze. He coughed, trying to fill the silence with something.

 

The awkward sound echoed through the warehouse with a distinctly uncomfortable tinge to it. Ryan raised an eyebrow at Michael, before realizing the younger man couldn't see it. He reached up to pull off his mask, leaving bloody smears wherever he touched, and dropped it to the floor with a soft thud. He repeated his previous expression, one brow arched upwards questioningly.

Michael watched him take his mask off, eyes following it as it fell to the floor before looking up and catching Ryan's eyes again. He attempted to steady his breathing, eyes glancing at the blood splatters along the man's form. 

After a few seconds of silence, he finally broke it. "W-what do we do with the body?"

Ryan shrugged, a motion that was much too casual for the situation at hand, "I have a few places where I dump bodies. Usually I find a cemetery and try to find a pre-dug grave, toss it in, and cover it. There's also the swamp just outside of the city limits I bury them in sometimes, or if I don't feel like doing that much digging, there's always the burial at sea option," he tapped his chin with a finger, the thoughtful gesture leaving a smear of blood there. Ryan clucked his tongue in annoyance, resolving to strip himself of the gloves as soon as they were finished with this mess. "Sometimes I drop them in the landfill or a dumpster, anywhere really. Most of the time, no one's looking for these fucks. She said she had a kid though, so it's probably better if we leave it somewhere it'll be found relatively quickly. Dumpster seems like the best bet."

Michael nodded, though none of the information had sunk in he ran a hesitant hand through his hair as he kicked randomly at the ground. He didn't like how evident it was that he wasn't being his usual confident, cocky self. "Okay." Michael nodded once more, eyes glancing at the blood starting to puddle on the floor. "Okay." He repeated.

Ryan grabbed a tarp from the ground, an old, ratty thing made out of ugly blue plastic and frayed around the edges. Not the prettiest of burial shrouds, but it would do. He gently untied the knotted twine binding the lifeless body to the chair before tossing the tarp over it. He wrapped it around the corpse's torso before hoisting the body up onto his shoulder: a heavy, oddly shaped package. Ryan almost snorted at the mental image he produced of himself; it was almost as if he was Santa Claus delivering gifts on Christmas Eve, sack slung over one shoulder. But Ryan doubted the contents of his package would be as well received… certainly not by the woman's child. 

The older man turned to his partner, trying to shake of the light guilt that plagued him- not about the killing itself, but about the orphan he had created. "Okay?" Ryan repeated Michael's own words back at him, noting the nervous way the other man's eyes lingered on the bloody floor.

Michael eyed the body slung across Ryan's shoulder. He took a deep breath, meeting Ryan's eyes and throwing up a forced smile, jutting thumbs into his pockets and shrugging his shoulders of all unease. "Yeah, let's go." He quickly made his way out of the building, eager to get away from the silence and blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

Ryan strolled out of the warehouse as casually as anyone with a body slung over their shoulder could manage. He frowned at the two, sleek cars in the parking lot. That's why there had been so many of them. "So, which one do you want to take?" he asked, well aware that their stolen, flashy sports car was almost out of gas.

Michael didn't respond, just leaned into one of the SUV's; popped the trunk and glanced back at Ryan. Michael felt sick, and he was sure he was looking somewhat pale at this moment. It didn't make sense to him, he'd seen dead bodies before; he'd seen blood before, this wasn't new. He grimaced when his phone rang, shakily pulling the phone from his pocket and pressing the button. 

"Hey." Michael greeted, turning away from the car to watch the street. 

It was Geoff's voice then, slightly worried. "Are you two okay?".

Michael nodded before realizing Geoff couldn't see him. "Yeah, we're okay." Michael told him quietly. 

“Thank Christ, the heist is off; it's already getting dark. Come by the condo when you're done." Geoff told him, voice sounding professional but relieved none the less.

"Alright, see you soon Geoffers." Michael muttered, pet name sliding from his lips easily.

Ryan gritted his teeth at the pet name, tossing the body into the back seat of the SUV with slightly more force than necessary. 

"Hot wire the car if you can't find keys; I'm going to get my mask," he said, the annoyance he felt at Michael's affectionate tone towards their boss slipping into his voice. This always happened after a high; he sacrificed the abnormal control he usually had over his emotions for the release, and the entirely different sort of control he felt afterwards.

Michael watched him leave, before searching randomly through the car for the keys he hoped were there. He ignored the wave of nausea that swept over him when he bent to check the passenger side floorboard; shaking his head slightly as he bent and stretched across the seat; fingers tapping around the floorboard and pulling out a bag of coke; he chuckled at the find, tossing it onto the dashboard of the car before deciding he wasn't going to find the keys, and that they were probably on some dead guy in the building. He wasn't about to search through bodies for it, so he leaned back slightly and removed the ignition cover and yanked at the cylinder chords, pulling them from the car and noting the three wires; he set to work removing the red and brown cables, stripping the wiring.

 

Ryan stared at the concrete floor of the warehouse, now covered in random patches of blood. There was a pool of the stuff surrounding the chair in the middle of the room and the sight made him smile slightly. Then came the doubt, a sickening wave of it that hit him like a punch in the stomach. It didn't come every time he did this, sometimes it was just a twinge, but today Michael's pale face rose, unbidden, in his mind and he felt just the slightest bit sick. 

Ryan was a sick fuck, he knew that. Most of the time, he kept the thought hidden in the back of his mind, not letting it interfere with his work… with what he had to do. Michael might not have been scared of him now, but he would be. If he ever truly understood the madness that lived just under Ryan's skin, he'd run and never look back. That, or kill him.  
The psychopath picked up his bloody mask from the floor and returned to the car, mentally crushing the thoughts down until there was nothing but a twinge of doubt left.

Michael grunted when he twisted the wire and no power came on, sighing; he let his head fall forward onto the dashboard. He really just wanted to not be here anymore, he wanted to drop the woman's body off and get somewhere quieter. He needed the quiet, and a fucking drink more than he thought he'd ever need one before. He was feeling the stress, heavy on his shoulders as he untwisted the wires and re twisted them back; counting the seconds and pinching his fingers together. It pinched his skin, but he couldn't seem to find the mind to care as he bent under the steering wheel. Why the hell was Ryan taking so long anyway? He said he was just grabbing his mask.

Ryan walked to the SUV, opening the passenger door and tossing his mask on top of the body in the back seat. He slipped into his seat, closing the door behind him, before he noticed the way Michael was crouched underneath the steering wheel, face pale and tired looking. Hesitantly, Ryan put a hand on the younger man's shoulder, rubbing in small, slow circles, "Hey… are you alright?" He found himself saying that more and more by the minute.

Michael glanced up at him; brown eyes peeking up at him from the small space underneath the steering wheel. He smiled brightly up at the man, throwing up a thumbs up to prove he was in fact okay. He moved to get out from under the wheel then, pulling back but managing to clunk his head painfully against the wheel.

"Ow, fuck." Michael huffed, chuckling at his own misfortune as he climbed into the driver's seat.

Ryan snickered along with him, removing his hand and buckling his seatbelt, "I take it you didn't find the keys?"

Michael glanced at him before pulling his seatbelt across his chest and buckling it in as well, pulling the gear back into drive and moving to press on the gas. "Nope, I think it was probably on one of the guy's inside."

 

Ryan leaned back in his seat, putting his hands behind his head, perfectly content to sit through the car ride in silence. However, once they reached a moderately busy intersection, he pulled himself out of his thoughts, "Turn left here; there's a communal dumpster for a strip mall near here. Just take a right into the alley past the parking lot."

Michael turned the radio on to a quiet level, unable to take the silence and his own thoughts breaking through his mind. "Alright." Michael nodded, glancing behind him as he pulled the car to the left, he followed the man's directions quietly; making sure to focus his eyes on the road.

When they arrived in the dirty back alley, night sky barely visible overhead due to the terrible air pollution that plagued Los Santos, Ryan hopped out of the car and opened one of the large, blue bins. It was half full of food scraps, plastic, cardboard, and hair from the nearby salon: perfect. 

He opened the back door of the car, dragging the tarp covered body out with both hands and hoisting it over one shoulder, "Mind helping me with this?" he asked Michael, nodding towards the dumpster. He was going to need to sift the trash overtop of the corpse so that it wouldn't be noticed immediately.

Michael had slid out of the car when Ryan had, walking towards the dumpster when Ryan motioned for him too. He sighed heavily, staring at the garbage and holding back a gag at the smell, on top of his already upset stomach this was pure torture- Michael felt himself mentally cringe at the word, groaning as he glanced back at Ryan. "You're serious?"

Ryan rolled his eyes, "Fine then. If you're so squeamish, I'll do it." He shoved the corpse over to Michael and began digging a slight indent into the mound of trash, just deep enough to fit the body into with no visible protrusions once it was covered. He was glad he hadn't taken his gloves off yet, wrinkling his nose at the smell and feel of rotting teriyaki chicken and vegetables, not to mention a moldy burger or two.

Michael took the corpse, stumbling back slightly as he struggled to keep the weight correctly on his shoulder. This wasn't any better, Michael noted after a few seconds; feeling the woman's legs through the tarp was enough to cause him to let out a visible shudder. He wanted a shower suddenly, a very hot shower that hopefully boiled his skin then and there. He brought a hand to his mouth, biting on his knuckle to keep the food in his stomach down; balancing the body with his other hand and counting the seconds it took Ryan to finish.

Ryan was about to gesture for Michael to toss the body into the dumpster, but noticed the way the other man was biting down hard on his knuckles and the way his face had taken on a sickly tinge. Instead, he gently took the tarp-wrapped figure from Michael and settled it into the hole he'd made in the trash, carefully smoothing the garbage back over it. He smiled at his handiwork; not even a corner of the blue plastic showed on the surface. Now Ryan could finally peel off his gloves, covered in blood and rotten food and who knows what else. He wanted to toss them into the dumpster as well, but he knew better, and stuffed them into the pocket of his jeans. The leather was bound to have some sort of evidence on it, his DNA or a flake of Michael's skin from when he'd ran his finger over the younger man's skin. He shivered slightly at the thought, the memory stirring something inside him. It was not unlike the pressure that lived inside him at all times, and just as carnal.

Michael closed his eyes for a second, thankful the heavy weight was taken off his shoulders but willing his stomach pains to go away. He took his hand away from his mouth once he was sure he could keep his food down, moving instead to let it rest across his lower abdomen; taking instead to grinding his teeth. He made his way closer to the car, steps feeling heavier than they should as he did so. He cracked his neck, stretching out his arm and trying to take his mind off of everything they just did.

Ryan stretched, lacing his fingers together above his head, grinning slightly as his back make an audible crack. "Alright them, where did Geoff say to go when he called earlier?"

"We're headed to the condo, Geoff wants to talk about what happened." Michael answered, glancing over at Ryan and licking his lips habitually. He slid his hands into his pockets and slouched slightly, making his way towards the drivers seat.

Ryan settled back into his seat, ready to spend another car ride in silence, before realizing just what /had/ happened to them that night. He had no doubt in his mind the Geoff would absolutely destroy him if their boss found out he had kissed Michael, though, to be fair, Michael was the one that had initiated it. He coughed slightly, bringing the younger man's attention to him, "So… just what /are/ you going to tell Geoff?" he asked, hoping he sounded somewhat innocent.

Michael shrugged nonchalantly to the question, uncaring about the way he was speeding over the limit; it's not like any of the cops actually pulled anyone over for speed here. "Just I guess what she told us, he's gonna be pissed though, y’know, about the attack. Think he'll get in contact with the RWBY boss?"

Ryan hummed noncommittally, "Probably, knowing Geoff. I wouldn't be surprised if he already knew who it was; he's thorough like that, always tracks any new gang activity."

"Yeah." Michael mumbled, adjusting in his seat as he took a turn; running a red light easily. "So..."

Ryan quirked an eyebrow, "So." He kept his voice calm yet curious, leaving no inflections to suggest his thoughts, which were, admittedly, slightly scrambled at the moment.

"I didn't know you were gay." Michael wondered aloud, looking over at the man in his peripheral. He wasn't sure where the statement had come from, maybe it was due to the fact that he couldn't get the kiss out of his mind, or Ryan out of his mind for that matter. Or maybe he had just grown tired of the awkward confusion surrounding the car.

"I'm not," Ryan kept his answer short and to the point, not looking at Michael. He simply stared straight ahead, watching the bright lights of Los Santos pass by them in a blur.

Michael furrowed his brows in confusion then, sighing loudly. It was clear that Ryan was not in the mood for conversation, and that was more that fine with Michael; it meant he didn't have to mask his confused anger or hurt anymore. It was easy to keep driving, only turning his gaze to observe the other cars and occasional pedestrians. They were almost there anyway, he could get out of the car and pretend this whole thing had never happened.

After a moment, Ryan took pity on Michael. Just because he wanted to ride the high killing someone gave him before the itch returned, that didn't mean he could just sit back and let the issue simmer. He ran a hand through his hair, the nervous habit taking back over now that he'd removed his mask.

"I- I don't know what I am. I don't keep up with all the fancy, new labels and bullshit. I'm rarely… /attracted/ to people. When it happens, gender doesn't really play a big part in it."

"Oh." Michael nodded in understanding. 

He didn't press the issue anymore, letting Ryan relax and not wanting to bother the man anymore than he already had. He knew he could be impatient, annoying even. It only took a few more minutes for Michael to drive the car into the parking garage of the condo, turning off the engine.

Ryan reached into the back seat, grabbing his bloody mask, briefly considering sliding it over his head and just hiding from the world. He just wanted to go home to his apartment and relax with a glass of wine, reflecting on his memories from that night. Instead, he opened the passenger door and got out of the car, the mask tucked under one arm.

Michael moved out of the car, jogging slightly to catch up with Ryan. He tugged his hoodie off, the material already bothering him as they got farther away from the wind and closer to the elevator that would take them to Geoff's apartment.

Ryan pushed the button to call the elevator, and the doors opened smoothly, almost as if the machine had been waiting for them. As he stepped in, Michael after him, he couldn't help but notice how out of place he looked in his blood spattered leather jacket and stained jeans. The small box of a room was nice, with a carpeted floor and soft music playing over the speakers. Ryan pressed the button that would take them up to Geoff's floor, noting how pristine and bright it looked in comparison to his grubby, dark clothing.

Michael yawned sleepily as he entered the elevator, pressing a fist to his mouth to conceal it as his eyes watered slightly from the drowsiness. He glanced at Ryan, unsure and confused as to what exactly had happened to the two that day. It really was a huge train of events and he'd grown a little attached to the man, despite willing himself not to. He was more than ready to walk into the apartment, take a glass of whiskey straight to his lips and hang out with the group for a bit. Nothing stressful, nothing tense; just peaceful and like any normal group of friends would be. He ran a hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp as he waited for the elevator ride to end.

When the elevator doors slid open, Geoff was standing in front of them, pacing nervously. His head shot up when he heard the light "ding" signaling the machine had arrived. His expression flashed quickly from concern, to relief, to anger in the span of a few seconds. Then, he was up in their faces growling out an authoritative, "Where have you /been/?"

"Y'know... hiding bodies. The norm." Michael smirked charismatically, walking forward and patting Geoff on the back easily. "Good to see you too Geoffers." 

Michael made his way into the apartment, offering a wave to Ray as Gavin immediately got to his feet and raced over. Michael clapped him on the back as well, making his way toward the kitchen and grabbing the whiskey.

Ryan couldn't help but smirk at the casual way Michael had brushed Geoff off, but he couldn't do the same. He eyed their boss, quirking an eyebrow at the way the man was staring at him intently. 

Geoff broke the stalemate, rubbing the bridge of his nose with one hand, "I don't suppose you're going to tell me what happened either?" He sounded tired, wrung out. Possibly from worry, Ryan thought.

He shrugged noncommittally at the man, "Got attacked. Took 'em down pretty easy, though there's a bullet in my shoulder. Michael caught one of them alive, I… interrogated her. RWBY gang's after us, apparently." Ryan sidestepped Geoff, following Michael into the apartment, dropping his mask on the coffee table and shrugging out of his bloody leather jacket. The shirt beneath it was stained as well, but it was the best Ryan could do for now. He wasn't about to strip down in front of the entire crew. Instead, he pulled his gloves out of his pants pocket and tossed them next to the mask.

Michael glanced up at the part about having a bullet in his shoulder. "You didn't tell me you got shot." Michael hissed, now feeling guilty for making him carry the body in the first place. He poured himself a glass of the alcohol, pouring some more in another for Ryan. 

Gavin immediately reached for the glass, squeaking when Michael batted his hand away and turned past the counter in the kitchen to slide it into Ryan's hand. He chugged a good amount of his own, already dodging Gavin's play punches. "You got attacked? How many?" The brit questioned.

Michael laughed, setting his glass down to correctly rebound the play punches Gavin was throwing. "Like fifteen or something."

Ryan downed the shot in one gulp, not even grimacing at the taste, "It's not that bad; just a flesh wound. Stings like a bitch, though, so anytime someone wants to take this bullet out is fine by me." He eyed the bottle of whiskey, considering another drink to distract himself from the itching that was returning to his fingertips.

Michael was about to offer when Jack got out of the kitchen chair and headed to grab the first aid supplies from the bathroom. Probably a better idea, Michael wasn't that great at taking care of wounds. He sent a knee into Gavin's stomach, giggling when the man tripped over a bar table pressed against the couch. 

"You're such a dumbass." Michael commented, scratching his arm and taking the drink back from the table.

Ryan realized his decision not to strip in front of the gang would be overruled when Jack came back from the bathroom and raised a disapproving eyebrow at his rolled up shirt sleeve. "Don't tell me you're going to get modest on me, Ryan, it's not like I haven't seen you shirtless before," she admonished him. He sighed, tugged his shirt over his head and tossing it aside, sitting on a barstool to allow the woman easy access to his shoulder.

Michael leaned against the arm of the couch, patting Ray's chest gently. "Hey Ray, how's it going?" Michael greeted, noting that Geoff had already left to make a call. 

"Fine, how about you?" Ray was uncaring to say the least, watching the tv absentmindedly as the news rolled. 

"Fine." Michael shrugged back, letting his eyes trail to Ryan's chest, grimacing at the wound.

Jack swept an alcoholic wipe over the bullet hole in Ryan's shoulder, not stopping when he winced. She worked quickly and efficiently, tying a tourniquet above the wound and taking a pair of pliers from the kit, cleaning them with another wipe. Ryan made a face at the instrument, all too familiar with the process. "Fucking Christ,” he muttered under his breath, trying to mentally prepare himself for the pain.

Michael gnawed on his lip, he knew how bad bullet wounds hurt and he was sympathetic for Ryan's pain as the man winced. He'd been focused mostly on Ryan so when Gavin grabbed his foot and yanked him to the ground he was taken by surprise; it was all in good fun, of course and it didn't take long for Michael to pin the man down, arms wrapping across the mans body and putting him in a headlock. Gavin continued the rough housing, trying to escape his grasp by wriggling around.

Ryan caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and smiled slightly. He didn't think Gavin would ever learn that nine times out of ten, Michael would beat him in these little wrestling matches. 

Jack gently widening the bullet hole with one gloved finger pulled him out of his thoughts and made him wince in pain. Once she deemed it sufficiently large, she reached in with the pliers, carefully pulling out the hunk of metal inside. Ryan bit down on his lip forcefully, trying not to let out the scream building within him. Finally, the bullet was out and Jack was smiling at him sympathetically, gloved hands slightly bloody.

Michael locked his legs easily around Gavin, pulling a hand across the man's mouth and continuing his giggling. "Give up?" Michael murmured, letting go only when Gavin nodded; laughing before standing up and pulling the other to his feet as well. Michael smiled once he realized the bullet was gone, throwing Ryan a cheesy thumbs up when Geoff walked in and sighed; hand rubbing across his mustached face.

"So, what's up?," Ryan asked as Jack began to sew him up. He hissed as the needle penetrated his skin, throwing the woman a harsh glare. 

She simply shook her head at him, muttering "That's what you get for worrying Geoff half to death, idiot. I hate hearing him complain about Michael like he's his fucking child."

Michael grinned at Geoff, playfully throwing an arm across the older man's shoulder. "Come on Geoffrey, relax a little." 

Geoff rolled his eyes but smiled never the less, pulling away and making a few steps towards the whiskey. "We're going to lay low for a few days, we can't risk a gang fight right now."

The older man didn't bother with a shot class, simply taking the bottle in one hand a chugging it. Ryan could tell that before the night was out, the boss would be piss drunk. Why not join him? "Hey, Jack, you mind getting me something to drink? This fucking stings," he asked the woman who was currently using a pair of sewing scissors to cut the thread holding his wound together from the spool of dark blue thread.

"No, get it yourself, asshole," she snorted, unconcerned with him now that he was all stitched up.

"I'll get it." Michael offered, bouncing to his feet and moving to the kitchen. He ignored Geoff's raised eyebrow and grabbed out some of the hard liquor Geoff kept from the cabinets. "I'll take one!" Gavin called out as Michael pulled the glasses from above him as well.

Ryan noticed the way Geoff was looking at Michael and him and back, eyes narrowed. /Shit/. They used to barely talk and now Michael was fetching drinks for him? It was odd, to say the least. He rotated his shoulder absently, staring at the TV from his barstool near the island. Ray was now furiously playing some FPS game, kicking the shit out of… were those aliens or people? Ryan had no clue.

Michael finished making the drinks quickly, shoving one into Gavin's hand as he passed and holding out Ryan's as well. Michael couldn't help letting his eyes trail across the man's chest; trying to make it seem like he was just checking the wound. Very discreet, Michael; I'm sure no one will notice you making eyes at your co-worker.

Ryan took the drink and sipped it slowly, smirking slightly at the way Michael's eyes strayed over his chest. Honestly, he should really put a shirt on, but the alcohol slowly making its way into his system was convincing him that that was a bad idea. He downed the rest of the drink in a single gulp, flicking his tongue out to catch the last drops of liquid. No… the new itch was returning and it urged Ryan to drive Michael as crazy as he possibly could.

Michael swallowed heavily as he watched Ryan drink, before shifting his gaze and moving towards his place on the arm of the couch. He scratched at his curls absentmindedly, turning his attention towards Ray's video game and away from the shirtless man. Gavin bumped shoulders with him easily, turning to quirk an eyebrow up.

"So how was spending all day with him?" Gavin asked quietly, hushed whisper reeking of alcohol. 

"Besides almost dying? Fine." Michael retorted sarcastically.

Ryan reached out to take the whiskey bottle from Geoff, who had been alternating between taking pulls from it and watching Ray's game. Jack, however, was nowhere to be seen. Ryan guessed she was either putting back the first aid kit or decided that she'd had enough of them for one night and went to bed. The shirtless man poured himself another drink, leaning back against the island, observing Michael like he was a predator and the younger man was his prey.

Michael rubbed his eyes tiredly, chuckling when Ray's on-screen character died. "You suck." Michael commented, glancing up when Gavin shouted. "Want a beer Michael?!" He noted Ryan's gaze, nodding at Gavin and thanking him for the offer; he really was going to need more if he wanted to make it through the night and he certainly hadn't had enough yet. He took it from Gavin when the man returned, putting it to his lips and taking a swig.

Ryan's lips curled into a grin and oh yes, he was most certainly a bit drunk now. The feeling thrummed through him pleasantly, hooking onto all the new thoughts he'd formed about Michael that day. He reviewed his memories: sitting with Michael in the car, fighting for their lives, the younger man growing nervous and sick at the sight of his knife pressed against that woman's throat, but not running away- just watching. The kiss. That in particular had Ryan reaching for the whiskey again, wanting more of that pleasant fuzz that prompted him to release his inhibitions. Geoff, however, grunted and pulled it away from him with a glare.

"No, Michael, you don't understand." Gavin slurred from Michael's right, pointing his finger in Michael's face and wagging it at him. Michael laughed back, shooing his hand away as he took another drink; he swallowed.

"No, I understand that you're an idiot. Time can't go backwards." Michael chuckled, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

Ryan got up from his stool a bit shakily, walking over to where Michael and Gavin sat on the couch. Ray was in the armchair to the side of them, still focused on his game. He could feel Geoff glaring at his back as hr leaned over the back of the couch, pulling Michael's beer from his hand and taking a long drink, wrapping his tongue around the neck of the bottle in a manner that may or may not have been seductive; he was a bit too tipsy to tell. 

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, voice a stage whisper, "Geoff hogging all the whiskey."

Michael raised an eyebrow at the man when he took his beer, eyes staring at the man's mouth as he did so. He glanced at Gavin who was already moving around to the couch to sit more comfortably. 

"Um, no?" Michael offered, glancing up at Geoff who was indeed glowering at the two. "Yeah, he does that."

Ryan sat down between them, clad in only his blood stained jeans and combat boots. He took another pull of Michael's beer before offering it back to the man, eyebrow arched.

Michael took the beer, sliding it between his lips and swallowing down some of the liquid. He didn't make a show out of it like Ryan had, now fully aware of Geoff's eyes on them.

Ryan briefly wondered, as he had before, if anything was going on between Michael and their boss. The younger man was a suck up, but it was more than that. Geoff seemed to have a certain affinity for Michael; there was no doubt that, out of all of them, Michael was Geoff's favorite. He worried over him like a son, or perhaps, Ryan thought, a lover. Michael, in turn, called Geoff by a variety of pet names, mostly 'Geoffers', and now that he thought about it, the only person Ryan had ever seen the man suck up to was Geoff.   
It made his stomach twist unpleasantly, and he glanced over at the kitchen counter where their boss was hugging the whiskey bottle like a security blanket and staring at the two, or rather three, of them.

Michael coughed when he swallowed the beer down the wrong pipe, immediately leaning forward and pressing a fist against his chest to try and cough it up. He kept the beer balanced smoothly in his hand, not spilling a drop as he gained back his composure and ran a hand across his mouth to remove the excess liquid. 

"First drink?" Gavin joked, earning an eye roll and the middle finger from Michael.

Ryan smirks, but pats the younger man on the back sympathetically, "You alright there?"

Michael nodded, passing the beer back to Ryan uncaringly. He really didn't want any more anyway. He eyed Ryan curiously, trying to figure out just how much the man had had and if he should really be giving him the rest of his.

While Ryan didn't drink often, he had a relatively high tolerance. Still, he was well on his way to drunk by now and, if prompted, would probably start waxing poetic about blood or sex- whichever came up first. Of course, to his fuzzy brain this seemed like a good thing, so he took the beer from Michael's hand and chugged the rest of it, dropping the empty bottle to the table and sighing. He leaned back on the couch, both arms slung over the back so that one was around Michael's shoulders and the other around Gavin's inebriated form. The Brit was curled up into a ball, giggling happily to himself.

Michael raised an eyebrow but didn't shy away from the embrace, even moving slightly to become more comfortable in the crook of Ryan's arm. He could feel his heartbeat speed up slightly, not having been this intimate with the man since they shared the kiss; which he was now remembering in quite the detail. It didn't help that Ryan was shirtless, muscled arms tugging across Michael's shoulders. He crossed his ankle over his knee, relaxing back into the couch.

Ryan smiled to himself as Michael moved in closer to him, but that smile melted away as Geoff slid into his sight line. The older man sat on the coffee table, placing the bottle of whiskey beside him, "Ryan, how drunk are you, dude?" It was meant to come off as a playful, lighthearted comment, but there was something beneath the words- jealousy, malice? Ryan couldn't quite place it.

Michael furrowed his brows at Geoff as he sat down, glancing over to Ryan to see the man's reaction as Geoff questioned him. Gavin was peeking over at the other men as well, eyes locking with Michael and raising an eyebrow to which Michael shrugged. Geoff wasn't usually the caring type when it came to alcohol consumption, and it wasn't like Ryan was vomiting or passing out yet.

: "Moderately," Ryan answered coolly, giving Geoff his customary cold, questioning stare, made slightly less effective by the fact that he slurred the word slightly. 

Geoff shrugged, taking a sip from the whiskey bottle he'd seemed to have grown attached to, "What about you Michael? I can already see that Gav is fucking drunk as dicks."

"I've got a buzz, not much more." Michael responded easily, sliding a hand to the back of his neck and rubbing the skin there. He eyed Ryan from the corner of his eye, trying to keep his hands to himself and willing his own mind not to react to the man's closeness.

Some point between Ryan claiming Michael's beer and Geoff sitting on the coffee table, Ray had quit his game and exited the living room, presumably to claim the other guest bedroom in Geoff's apartment before anyone else did. If he listened hard enough, Ryan could just barely hear Jack's snores through the thin wall separating them. The woman was anything but dainty; she sounded like a dying bear.

"Maybe you should go to bed before you get too smashed then," Geoff said, gently laying a hand on Michael's shoulders, "You look kind of exhausted, buddy." Ryan's lip curled at the proprietary gesture.

Michael furrowed his brow, staring at Geoff for a few moments. He glanced back over to Ryan and Gavin, wondering why Geoff had thought to only ask him. He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.

"I'm alright." Michael smiled brightly, "thanks though, daddy." It wasn't uncommon for him to playfully refer to the older man as such, teasing him for his position in the gang.

Geoff grinned at Michael, and Ryan couldn't help notice the slight flush to his cheeks. It made his stomach twist unpleasantly. Abruptly, he pulled his arm from around Michael's shoulders and stood, stretching languidly. "I think I'll take you up on that offer, Geoff. Torturing really takes it out of a guy," he said, flashing the older man his toothiest, most predatory smirk. It widened when Geoff's eyes flashed briefly with disgust… and fear.

Michael glanced up as Ryan left, confusion falling across his features as he looked between the two men. He turned to Gavin to get acknowledgement for the mens' weird behavior, but Gavin had curled up against the sofa and promptly fallen asleep. Well, great.

Even in his drunken state, Ryan managed to resist the urge to raise an eyebrow at Michael and ask "You coming?" While the idea of fucking the younger man senseless in his boss's bedroom was appealing, /very/ appealing, every rational part of his mind told him it was a bad idea. Instead, he grabbed his shirt from where he'd dropped it and walked down the hallway leading to Geoff's room. He imagined the other man glaring at his retreating back and snickered internally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and Comments are appreciated<3  
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

Michael gnawed on his lip as the man left, glancing up the ceiling instead of meeting Geoff's eyes. He had a feeling the man wanted to talk to him and he wasn't exactly too excited about being lectured, or being worried about. He guessed he was probably going to talk about the interrogation, but Michael wasn't a child and he could handle himself very well; despite Geoff's protectiveness. He was the one that had put the men together in the first place, so this was completely his fault. 

"So, do you want the couch or...?" Michael asked.

Geoff sighed and rolled his eyes, shifting to sit next to Michael. He offered the whiskey bottle to the younger man in a gesture of solidarity before beginning, "So. You and Ryan seem… close."

Michael pulled the bottle to his lips with a sigh, shaking his head before taking a sip. Once he'd swallowed the harsh liquid he placed a hand on his thigh to turn and look at Geoff with a raised eyebrow and a scoff. "The best bonding experience is murder." He muttered bitterly.

Geoff's eyebrows shot up, "Wait… seriously? You… /watched/ him?" His facial expression was an odd mix of impressed, disgusted, and surprised. Ryan never let anyone watch him "work," if you could even call torturing and killing people work.

Michael rolled his eyes, setting the whiskey bottle on the table before sitting back against the couch and crossing his arms over his chest. Michael was suddenly wondering why he had even watched it, and assuming by the look on Geoff's face none of the others in the gang would have. 

"Yeah, why?" Michael demanded, voice taking a slightly defensive tone.

Geoff rubbed a hand across his face tiredly, "Jesus dicks, Michael. That's… I hate to say it, but that's kind of fucked up. We employ the guy for a reason, but you didn't have to… Christ." The older man's voice was laden with guilt and he refused to look at Michael, instead staring down at his hands as if the answer to all his problems would appear written on them.

Michael didn't even try to hold back his anger as he glared at the older man, fists tightening at his sides. "Right, because you're a fucking saint, Geoff?" He huffed loudly, shaking his head and trying to reign in his temper. He wasn't doing too well with it, he could already feel his body starting to tense as his mind repeated Geoff's words.

"I never said I was a saint," Geoff snapped, "I'm just saying that you didn't need to watch him do that shit. He's a fucking psychopath, Michael. He /enjoys/ murdering people! I've killed more than a few assholes in my day, but I never liked it. Not once!" 

The older man squeezed his eyes shut, mentally counting to ten, "I'm sorry. I just fucking hate to think of you watching that psycho carve into some poor bastard. Did he…" Geoff's voice broke, "Did he hurt you?"

Michael winced slightly when Geoff blew up, with anyone else Michael would've responded back just as harshly, but everything was different with Geoff. Michael gritted his teeth at Geoff's reply, part of him wanted to end the conversation with a simple no and storm off somewhere; but his emotions were a little heightened and the buzz in his brain wasn't helping him in the slightest. "N-no. He didn't hurt me, he told me I could go. I didn't have to watch, I just- shit, I don't know. I was curious."

Geoff's eyebrows crinkled together and he let out a horrified, "What?" in a whisper. He ran a hand through his hair before snatching the whiskey bottle back from Michael and chugging the last drops. He looked down at it, disgusted, and resisted the urge to throw it across the room and watch it smash.

Michael glanced hesitantly at him, confused guilt clearly written on his face as he curled his knees up closer to himself. "You heard me." Michael murmured quietly, "He's not a bad guy, Geoff."

"Not a- Michael…" Geoff began to splutter, but his voice quickly shifted into a gentle, comforting tone. In all likelihood, he was trying to be fatherly, but it came out with a tinge of condescension. "He kills people for his own enjoyment… I'm pretty sure that makes him a 'bad guy.' Seriously, what's wrong?"

Michael rolled his eyes at Geoff's tone, he'd heard it multitudes of times before. He couldn't help the exhausted huff that fell from his mouth, he didn't want to have this conversation now. "Why do you hate him so fucking much? He didn't do anything to you, you have no fucking right, Geoffrey." He seethed the pet name now, furrowed eyebrows reflecting his anger.

"Are you fucking serious?" Geoff hissed, jabbing the younger man in the chest with his forefinger, "He's insane! Have you- he looks at us like we're pieces of meat, Michael. Like, like we're prey or something! He doesn't view us as people, just as playthings. Do you know /anything/ about what he did before he joined us?" His voice was growing progressively louder as his anger took over, "I swear to God, Michael! Why do you think I never pair you two together on heists? I'm afraid he's going to fucking hurt you!"

"Why're you being such an asshole about this?!" Michael yelled, voice growing louder and hoarser as his anger soared, he shoved Geoff's hand away from his chest. Standing up sharply from the couch, hands crossing over his chest and glaring daggers at the man in front of him. "He's not going to hurt me! Even if he did, I'm an adult, Geoff. I can handle my fucking self."

"Fine!" Geoff threw his hands up in the air, "Get yourself killed, see if I care!" He shot up from the couch, stomping angrily towards the kitchen to grab another bottle of something to drink- vodka, whiskey, anything he could get his hands on.

"Stop treating me like your fucking child!" Michael followed him, probably not the wisest decision; but Michael never pretended to be anything but impulsive. "Jesus Christ, Geoff; you're acting like a real son of a bitch." Michael huffed, ignoring the stirring sound of Gavin.

"Yeah, 'my fucking child'- /that's/ what I want you to be," Geoff muttered, unscrewing the top of a bottle of rum and taking a pull from it. It had gotten to the point where the alcohol didn't even make his tipsy anymore, it just made him feel… normal, almost. It was the equalizer in his shitty life, allowing him to get through each day without popping a vein in his forehead.

"Shut up!" Gavin whined from the couch. 

Michael sighed irritably, resisting the urge to punch the nearest breakable object, which just so happened to be one of the empty bottles. "It is way too late for me to have to deal with your fucking shit, in case you didn't fucking notice I've had a hell of a busy day!" Michael yelled angrily, slamming the palms of his hands down on the counter; opposite of Geoff.

"Go get some god damn sleep then! I'm sure Ryan won't mind if you worm your way in next to his psycho ass," Geoff hissed, taking another swig. Everything he'd fought to build and maintain over the past few years was falling apart in front of his eyes and he only hoped that Michael was drunk enough that he wouldn't remember it in the morning.

"Maybe I fucking will!" Michael hissed back venomously, leaning forward slightly as he continued to glare at the man. Michael shouldn't be doing this, he should take a long ass walk home and stop this from getting worse. He could do it, just leave and tell Geoff he'd talk to him tomorrow when they both had clearer heads; he absolutely should not be responding back with equal amounts of anger and hostility towards someone who had only had his best interests in mind.

"Well, go on then!" Geoff shouted. Gavin was probably fully awake now, though maybe still tipsy. It didn't matter anyways, at this volume the whole damn apartment complex could be awake. It was too late to back down and Geoff wasn't pussy enough to try.

Michael instantly regretted challenging Geoff now, and he was positive he was gonna regret his stubbornness in the morning but right now he didn't care. The only thing that mattered to him was Geoff's shocked face when he in fact did walk to where Ryan was sleeping. 

"Fine. Fuck you." Michael seethed, throwing a middle finger up for good measure as he turned on his heel and stormed his way to the rooms.

Ryan rubbed his eyes sleepily as the door to his, well Geoff's room, creaked open. Though he was slightly paranoid and a psychopath, the man was a heavy sleeper. When it came to noise, his brain was specially tuned to nearby footsteps and gunshots, but otherwise no sound could wake him. He had stripped off his shoes and jeans, not bothering to pull up the bedspread to cover his boxers; it was rather warm in the room, anyways. 

"Wha-" he muttered, peering at the figure silhouetted in the doorway.

Michael shut the door loudly, breath falling from his mouth in short huffs as he tried to keep his temper down. He could feel his hands, that were still clenched in tight fists, shaking slightly. Michael leaned his head against the door, fighting the urge to scream and kick rapidly at the frame. He wasn't a crier, which he was grateful for, instead his emotions always seemed to fizzle into anger and hatred. "Sorry." Michael mumbled after a few seconds, glancing to the figure in the bed and sighing.

Ryan raised an eyebrow at him in the darkness, "I would ask if you were alright, but you're obviously not. Plus, I've asked that way too many times today. So I'm going to go with 'Do you wanna talk about it?'"

Michael shook his head, shrugging off the offer and glancing at the bathroom connected to the one Ryan was currently sleeping in.

"I'm taking a shower." Michael muttered, slipping his arms behind his head and grasping the collar of his shirt, pulling it from his body as he maneuvered to the room.

Ryan smirked, his eyes already readjusting to the darkness. Michael had an almost hairless torso, the only fuzz appearing in the form of an auburn happy trail that disappeared under the waistline of his jeans. He looked… edible might be the right word, and it certainly wasn't one Ryan would refrain from using. However, he reminded himself once again that he was in his boss's bedroom, both half asleep and moderately drunk.

Michael reached the already opened bathroom door, using one hand to unbutton his pants and the other to flip on the light switch on his left, after he did that he kicked the door shut with his foot; or mostly shut, only leaving a small crack. He shrugged it off though, not assuming he'd be actually in the shower for a very long period of time. He leaned into the shower to turn on the hot water before stepping out of his jeans and boxers, tossing them uncaringly by the sink.

Ryan bit his lip, debating the pros and cons of each of his options. He could pull a Peeping Tom on the man, or perhaps even join him in the shower- that idea made Ryan grin slightly- or just get over himself and go back to sleep. The last option won out, the older man chastising himself for thinking like a hormonal teenager just because he was a little buzzed. He settled back against the sheets, hands behind his head, and closed his eyes.

Michael climbed into the shower, ignoring the stings of the various cuts he'd gotten that day for the benefit of the scalding shower and an attempt to wash whatever guilt he'd accumulated that day. He scrubbed most of the dirt away, even taking a few seconds to use Geoff's shampoo and get out the crap that had found it's way into his curls. His body was exhausted, so it didn't take him long to get out of the shower, drying off some of his body with the towel before wrapping it around his waist. He debated putting on his old clothes, but he recalled having some extra clothing in Geoff's bottom drawer. He shrugged his shoulders, opening the bathroom fully and moving around the bed to Geoff's dresser.

Ryan shifted uncomfortably in the bed, suddenly noticing how damn grimy he was. A bit of blood here, a skinned elbow there- the only clean parts of him were his boxer shorts and the shoulder wound Jack had cleaned. He almost wished he had joined Michael in the shower, if for no other reason than getting clean. Nothing he could do about it now though, the younger man had probably used up all the hot water. He'd wash up in the morning.

Michael glanced at Ryan's shifting body, peering over slightly to check if he was asleep or not. When he determined he looked like he was indeed sleeping, Michael tried to be as quiet as he could; opening the bottom drawer softly and pulling out a pair of boxers and sweatpants. He didn't bother with a shirt, instead pulling the boxers and sweats up over his hips and taking the towel to his damp hair.

He could not get comfortable… Ryan rolled over onto his stomach, planting his face directly into the soft pillow in front of him. It was Michael's presence, he knew, though just what about it made it so hard to fall asleep he didn't know. Perhaps it was the fact that he was going to be completely vulnerable in his unconscious state and didn't quite trust the other man, but in all likelihood it had to do with the new itch in his fingers.

Michael sighed heavily, tossing the towel into a hamper. He slid his hands to the back of his neck, moving to sit on the end of the bed and resting his elbows on his knees. He was thinking through the entirety of his day, remembering details while Geoff's words plagued through his mind. He felt hurt? He guessed, he had no idea why Geoff had been acting the way he had towards him. He'd always been the one to tell the other's to give Ryan a chance and now when he finally had, and grown to actually accept the man, Geoff was there to lecture him about being safe. It was stupid and it didn't make sense to Michael, actually the entire day hadn't made sense to Michael.

Ryan opened one eye and saw Michael sitting on the bed, toned figure outlined in the darkness. /Fucking hell.../ "Would you just go to sleep already," he mumbled. It was at least 3am and therefore no time for deep thoughts and musing while sitting right where someone could see the delightful curve of your ass through your sweatpants.

"Shit!" Michael jumped at his voice, having thought the man was well asleep. "Sorry, yeah." Michael muttered, walking towards the bathroom and shutting off the light quickly before making his way and standing somewhat awkwardly near the bed. Was he supposed to sleep on the floor? He wasn't exactly sure how this worked or what Ryan wanted of him. Was he not even remotely curious as to why he was in Geoff's room?

 

"Are you going to go to sleep or not?" Ryan grumbled into his pillow, "I assume that's why you came in here… Though I could be wrong," he lifted his face from the pillow long enough to raise a curious eyebrow at Michael before sinking back into the downy material with a sigh.

"Yeah.." Michael muttered before pulling the covers up slightly and crawling into the bed. He stayed distant, grabbing a pillow and folding it over, resting it on his arm and laying his head on the other side. He blinked sleepily, sighing into the comfort of the plush sheets.

Ryan relaxed at the sigh, finally allowing himself to drift off into dreams of blood and the woman's whimpers from earlier that night. Finally allowing himself to bask in that old itch, the relief and power and pure adrenaline he felt when it was sated. The high of taking a life in his hands and squeezing… Ryan let another sigh into the sheets, echoing Michael. However, he couldn't help but think that the thoughts going through their heads were entirely different.

Michael twitched lightly, feet kicking at the sheets for a moment before trying to find another comfortable position. He was trying to fall asleep, and his eyes stung and reminded him just how exhausted he was. However, it was proving difficult and he was very aware of the figure laying in bed next to him.

Ryan was rudely interrupted from his fantasies by a leg connecting with his shin. "What the fuck," he muttered, more sleepy than annoyed, "I asked if you wanted to talk about it; you said no. Can I go to bed now?"

"I can't sleep." Michael mumbled, rolling over onto his back and glancing over at Ryan. He yawned sleepily, pressing a knuckle to his mouth and blinking a few times against the darkness.

Ryan stared blearily at him for a moment before sighing, resigned to fact that he wouldn't be leaving the world of the wakeful for awhile longer. He sat up, crossing his legs under him, "So why'd you come into my… Geoff's room? You could've slept with Ray or Jack," he asked, determined to wear the younger man out so that he'd collapse into the sheets.

"Jack snores and Ray'd kick me out in five seconds flat." Michael lied, scratching absentmindedly at his clad chest. He could've told him the truth, he supposed; but wasn't exactly sure how to explain that Geoff probably thought they were fucking; so he stuck with a vague lie. It amazed him that he and Geoff hadn't woken him up, they hadn't exactly tried to hide their argument.

Ryan snorted, "True. That woman sounds like a wounded bear when she sleeps."

Before today, he had gotten along with Jack better than anyone else on the crew. The woman's rather indifferent attitude towards him was better than Geoff's disgust, Michael's anger, or Ray and Gavin's fear. On the rare occasions when the entire gang slept at the boss's apartment after a heist, he usually slept in the same room as Jack. She was the only one who would tolerate him for long, and he in turn tolerated the she made that made her sound as if she were gargling nails.

Michael chuckled at Ryan's comment, nodding his head in agreement before moving to sit up. He ran his fingers through his still slightly damp curls, not feeling able to sit still much longer. "I can leave..." Michael muttered, suddenly feeling bad for imposing on Ryan's sleep schedule and personal space. This probably wasn't a good idea anyway and his insistent need to curl in closer with the man was driving him a little bit on the crazy side.

Ryan shook his head, "I don't mind you being here, just to be clear. I just happen to be exhausted. But then again, so are you," he chuckled, "What, do you need warm milk or something? Because seriously, I'd do just about anything to get some shuteye at this point."

\Michael probably would've found it funnier, had he not had a huge argument about being treated like a child. "No, I'm fine now. Let's sleep." Michael mumbled, laying back down and turning to face the wall before pulling the blankets up to his chin.

Ryan hummed in agreement, letting his eyes slip shut. His dreams were a mixture of blood, flesh, skin-on-skin, and the smell of Michael's hair. When he awoke, he would find that his nose was buried in it. 

It took Michael an hour or so to fall asleep fully, finally. Once he did, his mind was clouded with sporadic dreams and the constant remembrance of lips on lips. He shuddered in his dream state, murmuring random thoughts that didn't make sense to anyone but him. He had a bad habit of talking in his sleep. He curled subconsciously closer to the man next to him, sleepy haze still foggy around him.

When Ryan opened his eyes, sun was streaming through Geoff's bedroom window, illuminating the sight before him: Michael, curled up against him, his hair almost glowing faintly in the lighting. Ryan's arms were wrapped around the man's waist, a fact that he felt a bit confused by. He wasn't an intimate person, but somehow his body had wrapped itself around Michael independently of any of Ryan's conscious thoughts. His head thrummed lightly, but the pain of the hangover was oddly pleasant in this setting. Or maybe Ryan was masochistic as well as sadistic… he didn't press the thought further.

Michael scrunched his face up, breath leaving his mouth as his head started to wake up. He could feel the aches and pains in his body from yesterday, the recovery of all the adrenaline creating a slight soreness. He was refusing to open his eyes, not quite ready to face the day yet. He could feel Ryan's hot body flush against his and it only caused his face to blush slightly, burying his face further into the pillows as he took in the feeling of Ryan's hands on his waist.

Ryan hummed softly, carefully removing his arms from around Michael and rolling onto his back. Suddenly, all the aches and pains he'd acquired last night hit him full force and the older man groaned. His head throbbed more forcefully and his shoulder ached. He felt grimy and a bit stick from the blood residue on his skin. He needed a shower...

Michael murmured softly, unintelligible whispers falling from his mouth as he readjusted his position to lay flat on his stomach, hands stretching up to grip the back of his hair. He smashed his face flatter against the pillows, shielding his eyes from the blinding light and his slight headache. He wasn't yet awake, but definitely wasn't sleeping as hard as he'd liked to.

Ryan sat up slowly, smiling slightly at Michael's sleeping form. Now that it was morning, or even afternoon perhaps, he could see every detail in the soft expanse of the younger man's skin: pale and perfect, just waiting to be bruised, bloodied, marred by Ryan's hands and lips and teeth… He shook his head. He could always jerk off in the shower, but he needed to get clean. He stood up, stretching lazily, back cracking audibly. A yawn forced its way from his throat. Despite sleeping in, he was still exhausted.

Michael wiggled his hips slightly, still trying to get comfortable on Geoff's overly plush mattress. He wasn't used to the comfort, enjoying his overused mattress at his apartment more. He could feel his sweats slide lower on his body, but couldn't find any reason to care; he just wanted to sleep for hours and never wake up. Maybe if he was lucky, Geoff wouldn't request anything of him and he could just stay in the man's bed all day. His own body moving was starting to wake him up, frustrated at his body's inability to stay still.

Ryan stumbled lazily to the bathroom he hadn't explored before now. It was impressive; to his left was a porcelain counter top with two, deep-set basins carved into it, and at the end of the room hung a large, full length mirror, gilded edge glinting in the light pouring in from the bedroom. Ryan closed the door softly behind him, flicking on the light switch as he did, before turning his attention to the shower. It was a glass square with a creamy tiled bottom and several jets set into the wall that he couldn't even begin to hope to figure out. He reached in and turned the central knob, letting already lukewarm water fall over his arm. Ryan stepped out of his boxers, waiting for it to warm up.

Michael woke up when the sound of water rushing met his ears, letting out a groan of annoyance at the noise. He lifted his body slightly from the bed, turning to glare at the bathroom as if that would help anything. He couldn't help raising his eyebrows up at the sight of Ryan, glancing at the man's well defined body. He let a small smirk fall on his lips, ignoring the heat that formed across his cheeks.

The water was almost scalding when Ryan stepped into it and he groaned softly, the heated liquid beating down on his shoulders and soothing all his aches and pains. He grabbed a bar of soap from the small ledge carved into the shower, lathering it between his hands and working to scrub away the dirt and blood on his skin. The more substantial splatters of the stuff didn't simply flake away but melted, rivulets of reddish brown water dripping down his body and swirling down the drain. The sight made Ryan smile: it was like being reborn, or baptized, or some other Biblical shit. Not that that would ever help Ryan; he was a sinner to the core.

Michael flopped back down once he noted that Ryan was fully in the shower, sleepily crossing his arms and collapsing his head on top of them. He let his mind wonder; now with the visual aid of seeing Ryan it was much easier to imagine situations with him. He let a quiet whine escape from his throat at the image of Ryan on top of him, kissing and nipping along his body.

Ryan briefly considered the shampoo sitting on the edge in front of him, running one hand through his wet hair thoughtfully. He was surprised it wasn't as fancy as the bathroom itself, but it was just some standard name-brand mix, promising "smoother, thicker hair!"; apparently what mattered to Geoff was presentation, not substance. He squeezed some of the product into his hands, scrubbing at his hair while tilting his head upwards and letting the hot water hit his face. He let his mind wander, smiling at the memories that surfaced unbidden. Blood, whimpers, the sting of his bullet wound, Michael's pale, smooth back, the kiss… It all made Ryan's dick twitch.

Michael moaned at his wandering thoughts, the bed suddenly feeling very nice against the thin material of his sweats and boxers. He really shouldn't be letting his thoughts get this out of hand, thoughts of bitten lips and thrusting hips winding their way through his mind. Ryan was only in the shower, and this was certainly not the place to be thinking about the man; resting in Geoff's bed no less. He groaned to himself, yes Michael you are indeed a good definition of fucked up. Michael's hips moved against the sheets, face still buried in his arms; eyes closed tightly as his mouth opened in a breathless whine.

Ryan finished rinsing his hair before leaning up against one cool wall of the shower and stroking his cock languidly. He sighed, letting his eyes slip shut and his imagination run wild. Michael, underneath him, sweaty and moaning his name. Ryan would bite every inch of his pale skin, leaving gorgeous bruises that wouldn't fade for days. What would it be like to fuck Michael? Certainly not slow or loving, their kiss had proved that. He wondered if the younger man would fight him for control initially or simply whine as Ryan fucked him into the mattress. What sounds would he make? Ryan groaned out loud, quickening his pace.

Michael couldn't help crying out when he finally gave in and snuck a hand into his sweats and boxers, palming himself harshly. "Sh-shit." Michael muttered, he had been trying to be quiet; and hopefully if he was lucky Ryan wouldn't hear over the running water. Though his mind did fall to what would happen if he did walk back in, causing his body to shudder at the thought of Ryan taking control. Michael wasn't submissive, not by a long shot; he never went down without a fight, and he wasn't about to start for Ryan. He opened his mouth, cutting off his whimper by biting down on his arm instead. It sent a wave of pleasure through him, causing his body to buck against the mattress roughly. He kept his eyes closed tightly as his mind flashed through potential images.

 

A sound, muffled by the shower, broke Ryan from his fantasy. He furrowed his brow, looking around. What was- shit. His eyes fell on the half open door, unable to see much past it as the wood itself blocked his line of sight. Hadn't he closed it? Ryan cursed himself under his breath. Thinking quickly, he realized he only had two options: finish jerking off as quickly as possible with the risk of someone walking in on him, or get out of the shower and hope his raging hard on went away on its own… not likely, at this point.

Michael could feel the sweat starting to trickle down his body, flush forming across his body as hand aided in his grinding. He really should stop, have better self-control; more patience maybe. It didn't help that his mind had gotten rid of anything else to think about, his breathing speeding up as his hips increased their motions. Normally, he'd be able to think of a tv show, or a bad memory in his life and his mood would be completely ruined. Unfortunately, none of his usual go to's were working and he had to find the willpower to at least slow his hips down. It was fine, as soon as Ryan was done he'd race past him and finish off; nothing to be concerned about.

Ryan bit his lower lip, rolling his hips into his hand faster. It wasn't ideal; he'd much rather imagine fucking Michael slowly, teasing and torturing the man until he begged, but this would work too. He allowed a new fantasy to take hold of him; what if the kiss from last night had progressed, Michael rutting against Ryan's leg as the older man whispered filthy things into his ear? What if he had unzipped both of their jeans, taking both their cocks in hand and jerking them off? Michael would be panting into his skin, a litany of curses falling from his lips.. Ryan ran a thumb over the head of his dick a last time before coming with a moan that he hoped hadn't been too loud. He rinsed himself quickly, watching his spunk swirl down the drain and grabbing a towel to dry himself with.

Michael hissed out loud as he tried to pull his hand back away, forcing himself to stop touching himself. He couldn't help the moving of his hips however, no matter how he tried to will himself to settle down at least a little bit. "Fuck." He whined in frustration, letting his head fall onto the pillows multiple times; hoping it would clear his mind at least a little bit. The sheets were riding lower now, as well as his pants and he was pretty sure he didn't look even the least bit inconspicuous.

Ryan wrapped the fluffy white towel around his waist, tucking it into itself so that he would have his hands free. He glanced at the mirror, combing his fingers through his hair to give it some semblance of order, before slipping back into the bedroom, determined to find something not bloodstained to wear.

Michael pulled up to glance at Ryan, before quickly scattering off the bed; ungracefully as his feet tangled in the sheets. "Shit." Michael muttered, yanking the annoying fabric from his feet before going to move around Ryan swiftly.

Ryan caught his arm, raising an eyebrow, "What's got you all flustered?"

 

Michael blushed visibly, blinking slightly as he tried not to attract the man's attention to his noticeable problem. Make a response, Michael, say anything.. "I have to piss."

Ryan's eyes swept over the younger man and he couldn't help but let out a chuckle. Michael was flushed, and the fabric of his sweatpants was tented slightly. It didn't take someone as observant as Ryan to figure out what his problem was. He released the man's arm, smirking, "Right. 'Course you do."

Michael glared profusely, turning around with a loud. "Asshole." before walking towards the bathroom and slamming the door behind him. It only took him a few seconds to tug down his pants and boxers, flipping open the toilet seat. He set to work quickly, fortunately being his age had its benefits and it definitely didn't exactly take much to get himself off. His moans were as quiet as he could get them, gnawing on his lip as he stroked at a fast pace. After a few moments he worked himself to the edge, moving a hand to his mouth to chew on his knuckle as the pleasure ran through him. "Fu-fuck, Ryan!" Michael cried rather loudly as he came, spilling over. 

Well, shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now things are starting to pick up in the smutty department. 
> 
> Also, sorry these are all cliffhangers, there's really nowhere to fit in a good pause except for them. 
> 
> As always, any commentary is appreciated<3 We love hearing from you.


	5. Chapter 5

Ryan looked up from the shirt he was examining, one of Geoff's that looked like it might be big enough to fit him, at the sound. Did Michael just… he began to grin predatorily. Well, /this/ was certainly an interesting development. He decided that perhaps he wouldn't change into Geoff's shirt after all, flopping down on the bed still clad in only a towel, staring expectantly at the bathroom door.

Michael decided he was definitely not ready for this, in any way, at all. He sighed softly, grabbing some tissues and cleaned himself off before tossing the pieces into the toilet and flushing it down the drain. He turned on the sink, washing his hands clean of any gunk and drying them on the hand towel. He grabbed his sweat pants from the floor, throwing the boxers in the hamper under the sink. After tugging them up his hips he took a deep breath and opened the door, taking the whole situation in stride as he willed himself not to blush. Michael glanced at Ryan, eyes harsh and challenging; doing his best at making Ryan intimidated. He didn't even try to pretend it would work, it was kind of hard to intimidate someone who's name you just moaned, if nothing else at least Michael wasn't a chicken.

Ryan smirked at him, eyes half lidded. He was finding that he liked this new itch under his fingertips even more than the old one. Well, perhaps not more, but the feelings were at least on par with each other. 

"Do you have an extra shirt or anything I could borrow?" he asked, voice low and casual, "My clothes from yesterday are a bit… bloody." He had no illusions that the younger man's clothing would fit him, but he wanted to see the effect mentioning yesterday's events had on Michael.

Michael tilted his head slightly, tongue flicking out to wet his lips before nodding. "Yeah, or you could borrow Geoff's. He might be closer to your size." His mind flashed through the memories of yesterday, and whereas his stomach managed to do a few flips; he didn't think it was necessarily a bad image. He shivered when his brain flew to Ryan slitting the woman's throat, wondering exactly how someone could look sexy when taking someone's life. Michael, you truly are a fucked up individual.

Ryan uncrossed his legs, swinging them over the edge of the bed before standing, ambling over to Geoff's dresser, "Hmm, you're probably right." He bitterly wondered if Michael would like him better that way, all dressed up in their boss's clothes. It didn't matter, really, because the only other person's clothes who would fit him would've been Jack's, and there was no way in hell Ryan was going to wear her lime green leggings or one of her tank tops. He opened a drawer, carefully looking over his options.

Michael watched the man sit up, a slight confusion falling over his brow. Maybe he'd gotten lucky and Ryan hadn't actually heard him, or maybe he was just being nice about, but the latter didn't sound too much like Ryan. Michael slid a hand nervously to his hair, rubbing the messy locks from his face and looking the alarm clock next to Geoff's bed. It was nearly one.

Ryan pulled out a pair of jeans that looked a little larger than the rest, an orange graphic tee emblazoned with a molotov cocktail, and finally a pair of boxers. Instead of going to change in the bathroom, Ryan dropped his towel with a smirk, before slowly pulling on the boxers, like some sort of reverse strip tease.

Michael resisted the urge to yelp, throwing a hand to his face. "Jesus!" He was pretty sure his entire body had turned a harsh shade of red at this point. He turned around, kicking at the ground with his foot nervously. 

"Could've given me some warning there." Michael muttered.

Ryan grinned predatorily, "Oh? And here I thought you liked the idea of seeing me naked… Guess I was wrong." He pulled the t-shirt over his head and tried to tug on Geoff's jeans. They were a little too tight on him, but they fit.

Michael flushed even brighter, turning back around to glare at him. He let a dramatic huff fall from his lips, trying to wrack his mind for a way to reverse the situation. The fact that Ryan was getting a kick out of his awkwardness frustrated him immensely. "And exactly what gave you that idea?" Michael nearly growled, puffing his chest out and crossing his arms over the top.

Ryan ran a hand through his hair casually, "Well, first you kiss me behind a warehouse and then, well… You certainly aren't quiet, Michael."

Michael squinted his eyes at the man, before sighing loudly and moving to the closet; separating himself from the situation with a low-spoken 'asshole' and grabbing one of his t-shirts he had hanging up in Geoff's closet. He almost wanted to laugh when he noticed just how many clothing items he'd had in the man’s room. He pulled it over his head quietly, tugging the material down across his stomach.

Ryan narrowed his eyes at the sight of the clothes. Just another reminder that they were in Geoff's apartment, in Geoff's bedroom… That Michael wasn't his. The younger man belonged to their boss, wholly and completely. He might kiss Ryan, jerk off to the thought of him, entertain these brief dalliances… but in the end, he'd always come crawling back to Geoff. The older man curled his lip, feeling the itch in his fingertips grow stronger. He wanted a drink… no, what he really wanted was a kill, but he couldn't indulge himself. Not after last night.

Michael turned back, slamming the closet door shut as he went. He gnawed on his lip for a second before turning his harsh gaze to Ryan, opening his mouth to say something before shutting it again. He was caught between emotions he didn't understand, part of him wanted answers; to know what they were doing, what was going on between them and the other wanted to get the hell out of the apartment and figure things out for himself.

 

Ryan met Michael's gaze steadily, if just to be the one to break it. He felt an odd sense of satisfaction as he turned away from the younger man, feeling as if he'd regained control as he walked out of the bedroom and down the hallway to the living room, where sun was streaming through the right wall, the one that was made entirely of windows.

Michael watched Ryan walk away, the moment he was out of the man's sight he took a foot straight to Geoff's wall. He ignored the slight tinge of pain as his toe jammed back painfully, rolling his eyes in annoyance at Ryan's entire persona. He guessed he should've warned him that Geoff might be a little irritable with him, to say the least. He shrugged it off however, deciding that his stomach was rumbling and he was needing some fuel. He marched off into the living room, curious to see who all was still here this afternoon.

Geoff was draped over the couch, still asleep, cradling a half empty bottle of vodka like a security blanket. Ray was no where to be seen, but Jack was moving quietly around the kitchen, scrambling eggs and cleaning a cereal bowl in the sink. Ryan didn't see Gavin at first, but then he noticed the Brit's left shoe poking out from under the coffee table. When he crouched down, there he was, one arm thrown across his eyes and mumbling something about it being "too bloody bright."

Michael rubbed his eyes as he walked from his room, pushing past Ryan as he made his way closer to the kitchen. He sat down in the barstool, giving Jack his best pouting face. "What're you making?"

She gave him a blank stare for his troubles, "Eggs. What does it look like, asshole?" The woman turned back to her food, nudging it with the spatula. Apparently, the consistency was satisfactory because she turned off the burner and reached for a plate.

"Like shit." Michael sighed loudly, reaching over the bar to grab a box of cereal and dug his hand into the crunchy food. He shoved a handful into his mouth uncaringly, it worked well enough for him and since he apparently couldn't sweet talk his way into getting the woman to make something for him.

Jack took pity on the man, scraping half of her food onto another plate and sliding it over with a simple, "You look like shit." 

Meanwhile, Ryan was dragging Gavin out from under the coffee table with a smirk, "Rise and shine, Gavvy."

"Thanks." Michael muttered, both in response to her question and the food. He nearly crawled across the bar to grab out a fork and start to dig in.

Gavin peeked his eyes open, grinning good naturedly at the man pulling him. He frowned however when the sun hit his eyes and he whined loudly as his headache throbbed painfully.

Jack sat down next to Michael, looking thoughtfully at her eggs before speaking, "So… what happened with Geoff last night?" She turned her head to look at him, facial expression concerned and curious.

Ryan let go of Gavin's legs, shaking his head. He needed to get out of here, go home, and do… something. Anything to get Michael off his mind, even if that meant looking at the old photographs he kept hidden under his bed, the ones he rarely indulged in. He looked around for his mask, brow furrowing when it was no where to be found. "Hey, Gav, you haven't seen my mask anywhere, have you?"

Michael rubbed a hand across his face, the one that wasn't currently holding his fork. He peeked over at her, sighing quietly as he chewed down the food that was in his mouth. "You heard that, huh?" Michael murmured, debating on whether or not to even tell Jack. "He's pissed cause I did shit yesterday that he doesn't approve of." Michael answered quietly. 

Gavin sat up, bonking his head painfully against the coffee table as he glanced up at Ryan; eyes squinting upwards. "No, why would I have seen your mask?"

Jack raised an eyebrow, "What did you do? Because when I came out here to see what was going on, Geoff was clutching that bottle like his life depended on it. Then he started blubbering some nonsense at me, threw an empty beer bottle at the wall, and passed out."

Ryan shrugged, "It's not where I left it…" His eyes swept around the room once more, gaze falling on the corner of the room. There sat his mask, surrounded by shards of glass and impaled by something that looked like a kitchen knife.

Michael rolled his eyes at Geoff's previous dramatics. "I just, uh.. watched Ryan interrogate someone..." Michael mumbled quietly, silent enough that Ryan couldn't listen in. "Apparently, I'm not allowed to make my own decisions; because Geoff started hounding me about how fucked up it all was. He told me to go crawl into bed with Ryan, so I did." 

Gavin rubbed his eyes sleepily, finally getting to his feet as he followed Ryan's gaze and looked hesitantly at the man. "Oh, wow..."

Jack's eyebrows shot up, "You did /what/?" She almost choked on the forkful of eggs in her mouth.

There was a dark, stormy look in Ryan's eyes, his facial expression unchanging. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking, except for the fact that the thoughts were angry and violent. He walked slowly over to the corner, picking up his mask and brushing of the shards of glass that stuck to it and pulling out the knife. He looked over the weapon carefully; it was large and sharp, perfect for carving patterns into someone's flesh, which was exactly what Ryan wanted to use it for right now.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. It's fucked up and all that. I heard it all from Geoff already." Michael muttered, continuing to pile the food into his mouth. He hadn't realized it'd been so long since he'd eaten. 

"Ry?" Gavin asked quietly, watching the man observe the objects.

"No, no, not the interrogation thing," Jack shook her head, "That I get, curiosity or whatever. But you.. you two fucked?" She didn't look disgusted by the idea, just genuinely and utterly surprised.

"Who did this?" Ryan asked, turning his head to look at Gavin. His voice was calm and cool; he could have been asking what the weather was, or whether or not the other man wanted drink, if it wasn't for his white knuckled grip on the knife that had been imbedded in his skull mask moments before.

"No, no." Michael shook his head fervently. "No, we didn't. I just slept in there, is all." Michael shrugged, putting down his empty plate. He almost wanted to laugh at the possibility. As if Ryan even wanted to, he'd already proved to Michael that he probably didn't care at all

. Gavin shrugged his shoulders at the question. "I don't know, I've been asleep." Gavin ran a hand through his hair, already taking a step backwards, closer to Jack and Michael.

Ryan pushed past him carelessly, walking over to Jack and Michael. He dropped his mask in between the two of them, the hole that the knife had made in the plastic clearly visible. He grasped the countertop, blade still in hand, and leaned over it menacingly. Jack stopped mid-sentence in her reply to Michael, looking over at the older man. Ryan smiled, the expression almost twisted beyond recognition, "Do either or you know who did this?"

Michael stared at the mask for a few moments, frowning in confusion before realization hit. Geoff, of course it'd been Geoff, and clearly the man had a death wish. Michael turned his eyes toward Jack before looking up to Ryan and shaking his head. "No."

The smile fell from Ryan's face like a stone, leaving a frightening indifference in its wake, "Didn't I say I could tell when you lied, Michael?" He brought the knife up to trace the air in front of the younger man's face, not touching- nothing so threatening- but a brief reminder of just what he was capable of doing with it. Jack made no move to stop him, but bit her lip worriedly.

 

Michael scoffed loudly, probably not the best reaction but he'd never exactly been one to be threatened. "Well, unless you can read my mind you don't know who did it." Just stop talking, Michael. Just shut up.

Ryan flicked his eyes around the room, gaze settling on the couch where Geoff was still sleeping, snoring quietly, "I have a guess, but I'd rather be sure before I do anything… drastic." He looked back at Michael, forehead furrowed in mock worry, "After all, we wouldn't want anyone to get hurt, would we?"

At that, Jack reached out to grab his wrist, pulling it down to the counter and shaking her head, "Ryan.."

Michael sighed loudly, worry settling in his stomach as he looked over at Geoff. As much as he was frustrated with the man, he definitely didn't want him getting hurt. Jack was much braver than he was. 

Ryan dropped the knife to the counter, but pulled away from Jack roughly. "What, Jack?" he hissed, "Do you want me to just ignore this?"

"No, but I'd rather not have this end with you or Geoff in a body bag," the woman said calmly.

Michael let out the breath of air he hadn't realized he'd been holding, glancing back at Geoff's still sleeping form before switching his attention back to the two near him.

"He. Threatened. Me." Ryan gestured to the mask, face contorting with rage. 

"He. Was. Drunk. And angry," Jack pulled the man closer, almost whispering in his ear, "Besides, you should know better than to mess with Michael. What did you expect?"

Michael glanced back at Gavin awkwardly, who'd still been standing there with a sort of lost expression. Michael pushed his chair back slightly, already moving to get away from the entirety of the situation.

Ryan ripped himself away from Jack with a growl, stalking over to Geoff, "Get up." When the tattooed man only stirred slightly, Ryan grabbed the collar of his shirt, shaking him, "Get. Up."  
Geoff's eyes fluttered open, and he groaned, rubbing his face with one hand and wincing at the light, "What the fuck..."

Michael watched the situation unravel, thankful when Gavin walked closer to him and clapped him on the back with a 'Good morning, init?" Michael chuckled in response, moving a hand to scratch the back of his neck.

 

"What did you do to my mask?" Ryan's voice had lost all traces of its former calm indifference, and now he sounded frighteningly angry and on edge, as if he might snap at any moment.

"Jesus dicks, dude… It's too fucking early for this shit, Ryan. What do you mean, what did I do?" Geoff looked genuinely confused, which was no surprise given the amount he'd had to drink last night.

Michael huffed loudly, Geoff was right; it was too early for this shit. He moved forward a few steps. "Ryan, just let it go." Michael murmured tiredly, the man was full of dramatics and quite frankly, he was getting pretty exhausted with it all.

Ryan released his hold on Geoff's collar, well aware that if he didn't get out of here soon, he was going to do something drastic. So instead of beating their boss to a bloody pulp like every nerve in his body was screaming at him to do, he shoved Michael aside, grabbing his mask and walking out of the apartment, door slamming behind him. He hadn't even grabbed his clothes, much less his prized switchblade, but Ryan was far too angry to care. As he waited for the elevator to ding open, he smashed his fist into the wall, savoring the sting of his now-bloody knuckles.

Geoff, meanwhile, was gazing at the door in a stupor, "Was he… wearing my clothes?"

Michael stumbled slightly when Ryan shoved him, blinking when the door slammed. He rolled his eyes at Geoff's question. "Yeah, he took a shower, needed something to change into." Michael walked back to the kitchen then, grabbing out a glass and filling it with water.

"That was my favorite t-shirt…" Geoff mumbled, rubbing his eyes and wincing when last night's memories came back to him. The shouting, telling Michael to crawl into bed with Ryan, grabbing the man's mask and stabbing it with a kitchen knife when the Michael had actually done it, sobbing onto Jack's shoulder about how Michael would never love him, how he was piece of shit with nothing and no one but alcohol to keep him company. He wasn't sure how clear that last part had been; he'd been thoroughly smashed by that point.

Michael chugged down the glass of water easily, leaning against the sink for a few moments before setting down the glass and rubbing the palms of his hands against his eyes.

"Good morning, Geoff." Gavin greeted warmly, retreating from the kitchen with a couple of pain pills for their boss. 

Thanks, buddy," Geoff smiled gratefully as the younger man handed him the pills, swallowing them dry. 

"I don't have any 'hair of the dog,' but I can make you breakfast if you'd kindly explain what's going on," Jack called from the counter. He saw the woman smirk when Geoff gritted his teeth at the loud noise.

Michael shook his head at them babying the man, he was probably bitter about the whole ordeal; but never the less it pissed him off that they were acting as if Geoff was in the right with the situation. He turned on the sink then, splashing his face with water to clear   
his head.

Jack poured cereal into a bowl as Geoff stumbled over to the counter, taking a seat on one of the bar stools. The woman splashed some milk over the colorful marshmallow and bran (Lucky Charms, he'd bought those for Gavin, but he was in no position to refuse food) and slid the concoction over. Geoff took the spoon she offered and dug in, making a face and the sickly sweet flavor. In the kitchen, he caught sight of Michael, letting his gaze trail over the younger man's back, lingering on his ass and smiling at his messy curls. Out of the corner of his eye, Geoff saw Jack giving him pitying look and turned his attention back to his bowl of artificially flavored death. The woman probably thought that the two were already dating, or at least fucking; most of the crew did. Even though Jack was the one he'd usually confide his problems in, Geoff's pride wouldn't allow him to tell her that he hadn't even made a move.

Michael grimaced at the sink, slamming the water off and turning around before pulling his shirt up and drying his face of the water. He blinked at Gavin who was throwing random bits of cereal his way. "Stop, asshole." Michael grunted, catching one and chucking it at the british man.

Jack made her way around the counter, settling herself on a stool next to Geoff before clearing her throat, "So, uh… What exactly happened last night? Michael gave me a couple of the details but…" she trailed off, waiting for a response.

"Oh, did he, now?" Geoff grumbled. What had Michael even told her?

Gavin chucked a handful then, giggling when the man's face pulled back into a grin. Michael lunged forward, laughter falling from his throat as he grabbed Gavin into a headlock and started wrestling.

Geoff smiled absently at the antics of the two men in the kitchen. He'd rather forget about this entire mess and just watch Michael laugh and dick around. But of course, that wasn't an option, because Michael probably wouldn't even stick around for long, and Geoff had a murderous psychopath who was probably pissed as hell on his hands. 

"I got angry," he said quietly, shoving another bite of cereal into his mouth and chewing, "Wanted to kill the bastard. So I settled for shoving a knife in that stupid ass mask of his."

 

Michael kept his arms wrapped around Gavin's struggling form, the man's squeals and giggles reaching his ears at a piercingly loud rate. Michael was thankful for the distraction, just the ability to put his frustrating and anger into focusing on wrestling Gavin to the ground. He grunted when Gavin actually managed to get the upper hand, slamming them both unto the hard kitchen floor tile. They crashed into the counters, Gavin's feet kicking out playfully as they laughed.

"Do you… y'know, wanna talk about it?" Jack made a face a the cliche, but continued, "Or at least, like, talk to Michael. I can offer to drive Gav for ice-cream or something. He'd probably agree; he's a child like that," she smiled at him, and the concern and pity in the look made Geoff's stomach twist.

"There's nothing to talk about…" he muttered, though it wasn't strictly true. There was plenty to talk about, but he simply was too chicken shit to mention it.

Michael pushed Gavin away then, announcing his win and jumping to his feet. Gavin clambered to his feet as well, playfully swatting at Michael's chest. Michael stretched his arms, pulling on the straining muscles. He glanced back at Jack and Geoff, quirking an eyebrow up.

Jack shook her head at him, clearly unconvinced, "Hey Gav, wanna go get something to eat?" Geoff glared at her; the woman couldn't keep her nose out of other people's business, but he supposed it was for the best, given that if she hadn't left well enough alone, he never would have hired her.

"That sounds top, Jack." Gavin grinned, "Let me grab my shoes." Gavin laid down in front of the couch and grabbed out his shoes from under them. He ran back towards the door, shrugging on his jacket as he grabbed it from the kitchen counter. 

Michael took a hesitant breath, realizing why they were going out and not liking it in the slightest. He thought about leaving, just up and going and not having any sort of discussion. He thought against it, searching through the fridge for something to drink.

Jack pulled on her sandals, giving Geoff a meaningful look as she grabbed Gavin's arm and pulled him out the door. Geoff sighed, not liking this situation in the slightest. He wondered if his cereal would taste any better with vodka...

Michael grabbed out a soda, popping the tab and taking a sip. He kicked at the counter in front of him absentmindedly as he waited for Geoff to say something... anything really.

"So… how'd it go with Ryan?" Geoff immediately regretted the words, squeezing his eyes shut with a grimace. Way to go, Geoff. Real nice, real casual.

Michael instantly furrowed his brow, eyes growing harsh. "Really?" He questioned, rolling his eyes in annoyance already.

"… Sorry," Geoff rubbed his face tiredly, "I didn't- I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to say here."

“No ones making you have this conversation." Michael hissed, wincing as his headache sprang up.

"Jack's making me have this conversation, actually. I'd rather just leave it the fuck alone and pretend you didn't sleep with the murderous psychopath," Geoff deadpanned, curling his lip before shoving another spoonful of cereal in his mouth to shut himself up.

"This isn't even a fucking conversation, this is you still being bitter." Michael growled, leaning his elbows on the counter and looking at Geoff seriously.

"Yeah, well, I've got good reason to be," Geoff muttered. The sugary marshmallows in his mouth were beginning to make him sick and he really wanted a drink. It wasn't even 2:30 in the afternoon yet, but he found his eyes straying over to the couch where the vodka bottle was still nestled in between the cushions.

"No, no you fucking don't. You're not being fair, Geoff." Michael hissed, tugging at his curls in frustration. He was starting to feel the rage in his body, urging him to act on it.

"How? How am I not being fair?" Geoff asked, getting up from the counter and stepping around Michael to the sink. He rinsed his half empty bowl down the drain, flicking on the garbage disposal for a second, feeling satisfied at the noises it made grinding up the cereal. He was definitely going to need that vodka.

"You're not even trying to understand my point of view!" Michael grumbled, turning around to watch Geoff's back. "I don't even know what you're fucking problem is anymore."

"I have a lot of problems," Geoff muttered under his breath. His chief problem, at the moment, was Michael, but his need for a drink was a close second. He couldn't fix his relationship with the younger man, well perhaps he could, but not without giving him and Ryan his blessing, but he could at least drink himself into a stupor. He grabbed orange juice from the fridge, a cup from one of the overhead cabinets, and walked over to the couch, grabbing the vodka bottle and plopping down on cushions. "You want me to understand? Start explaining…" Geoff huffed.

"Well what do you want to know?" Michael demanded in response, he wasn't going to give the man a play by play. "Really, you're drinking again?" Michael muttered as he sat on the armchair, elbows braced on his knees as he looked Geoff over once.

Geoff didn't answer the last comment, simply pouring a copious amount of both liquids into the glass and taking a swig, "Just… why'd you watch? And…" he was about to ask, 'Did you sleep with him?' but, honestly, he didn't want to know. The mental image was already haunting him, of Michael pinned down and helpless as Ryan fucked him into Geoff's own mattress. It made him angry and sick to his stomach and… jealous. Burningly so.

"Curiosity I guess, I'd never seen him interrogate before and I wanted to know why no one else watched him ever." Michael shrugged, leaning back against the armchair. "It wasn't like I planned to watch him, it just sort of happened." Michael grimaced lightly at the memory, he still wasn't entirely sure why he was allowing this conversation to happen; he wasn't the most open individual and he figured it was more for Geoff's benefit than anything. "It wasn't like I got off to the whole thing, dude." Well, not exactly.

"Okay. I guess I get that, I'm just… worried. Because what if he thought you did, y'know?" Geoff took another drink, feeling himself relax as the alcohol seeped into his bloodstream, "Jesus fuckin' Christ… I'm just afraid that he's gonna hurt you." The older man shivered at the memories of the crime scene photos he'd dug up from the police archives. The prime suspect in those cases was a certain 'James Haywood,' who'd moved to Los Santos, changed his name to Ryan Wolfe, and began working for Geoff some odd years ago.

"He's not going to hurt me." Michael sighed, "I can handle myself, y'know." Michael ran a hand through his hair. He didn't think it would matter much if he did get hurt, Michael went through his entire life without mattering much to anyone and he didn't think he wanted to start now.

Geoff snorted, "No, I got that, dude. That's why I trust you with a gun. It's fuckin' Ryan I don't trust," Geoff's voice grew serious, developing a disgusted undertone to it, "I've seen what the bastard can do with a knife..."

Then why the hell did you hire him if you don't trust him?" Michael groaned, closing his eyes for a few seconds before looking back at him. "Yeah, no kidding, you almost wound up with one in your face this morning."

Geoff shook his head, wincing, "Yeah, well. I trusted him not to fucking kill me because it served his best interests." At least, he had until the man had taken an interest in Michael. If Geoff wasn't careful, the younger man would end up as Ryan's plaything. He emptied his glass at the thought of Michael strung up from the ceiling of some warehouse, a bloody smile carved into his face.

"Well don't be a dick and he probably won't kill you." Michael chuckled easily, lacing his arms behind his head and smirking. He still thought Geoff was being dramatic, Ryan wouldn't kill Geoff without an extreme motive, Michael knew that. Or at least, he hoped that was true.

Geoff shot him a look, "Don't you be a dick either. But for the love of God, don't get too close to him. You might not get off on killing people, but he fuckin' does." There was more than a tinge of worry in his voice as he poured himself another drink.

"Thanks for the concern, Geoff." Michael muttered sarcastically, but smiled never the less at the older man. He was visibly relaxed now that he'd been given a few minutes with Geoff, falling back into the comfortable routine of normality.

"So…" Geoff began, "Halo?" he grinned, gesturing to the TV. "We can drink until you're smashed enough that I can actually beat your ass."

"Yeah, sure." Michael agreed, standing up and moving towards the TV to turn on the xbox, grabbing out the controllers and handing one to Geoff. He slid into the couch next to the man, turning on his controller.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and supporting!


	6. Chapter 6

When Gavin and Jack arrived back at the apartment, they were greeted by the sight of the two men half tangled around each other on the couch, Geoff cursing about the fact that "That grenade wasn't anywhere fucking near me!" his volume almost rivaling Michael's. Jack smirked at the sight, mumbling something to Gavin about "a lover's quarrel" and "probably had make-up sex" before leaving, remarking that Caiti would be home from work soon and wonder where she was.

Gavin laughed easily at the men, shaking his head before walking off to the bathroom to shower since he'd been planning on getting ready for a date tonight. 

"What the fuck!? Geoff, stop dying, we're gonna lose!" Michael screamed, mashing buttons with fervor as he stared at the screen.

"You- You stop dying!" Geoff retorted as the 'You Lose' message popped up on screen, "This game is hard as dicks… I vote we take a breather."

"Alright, fair enough." Michael paused the game, chuckling softly still as he moved to lay down against the sofa; kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

Geoff stretched his arm over the back of the couch, nearly resting it on Michael's shoulders. It was a familiar gesture, intimate but not in a romantic sense. Geoff wished he had the courage to lean over and kiss the other man, even gently. Actually, he preferred gently. He wanted to show Michael every slow, loving touch he was missing with Ryan.

Michael tensed slightly at the closeness, but relaxed a few seconds later. He rubbed his hands against his eyes, holding back a yawn as he tapped his foot impatiently on the coffee table. He was glad the majority of his fight with Geoff was finished, enjoying the peacefulness that had fallen over the apartment.

"So, you gonna sleep over again? We can actually do shit this time, not fuckin' fight and all that bullshit," Geoff asked, "I think I have some steaks in the fridge I could cook…" The tattooed man didn't look it, but he was a master chef and took pride in using the small grill he'd hauled up and stuck on the balcony of his apartment. It probably wasn't legal, but hey, pretty much nothing he did was.

"Uh, yeah maybe." Michael had to admit the promise of food was settling well in his brain, especially one of Geoff's steaks. He kicked his feet from the coffee table, and unto Geoff's lap instead, leaning further back to curl up on the couch.

Geoff flushed slightly at the sight of Michael curled up beside him. He looked vulnerable- cute, even though he'd been cursing the older man out moments before. Geoff couldn't resist reaching a hand out and ruffling his curls absently.

Michael chuckled softly when Geoff ruffled his hair, tapping his foot absentmindedly. He brought a hand to scratch at the healing scratches lacing his back. He made a grabby motion for the vodka bottle, knowing very well the best cure for a hangover was more alcohol.

Geoff grinned at him and took a swig, holding it teasingly just out of Michael's grasp.

"Geoff." Michael whined, moving to sit up and reach for the bottle. "Don't be selfish." He reprimanded.

"Technically," Geoff laughed, "It is my vodka. So whatcha gonna do about it?" he swung the bottle back and forth with a twitch of his fingers.

Michael made his best pouty face, brown eyes glancing at the bottle and then into Geoff's eyes. He smirked before leaning forward, extending his arm out to reach the bottle and leaning across Geoff to do so.

Geoff blushed at the feeling of Michael across his chest. He was neither too heavy nor too light, just the perfect weight to press into Geoff's skin like a reminder. A reminder that Michael wasn't his and he had absolutely no right to be blushing at the delicious way they fit together. He was so distracted that he didn't bother to move the bottle away again, letting the younger man grab it from his fingers.

Michael grinned triumphantly, pulling back slightly and bringing it to his lips, tilting his head back to let the liquid fall down his throat. His knee was still digging slightly into Geoff's ribs, and he was pretty sure his hand was still on the man's chest, but he paid no mind to it as he drank the vodka.

"Hey… Michael," Geoff questioned, looking down at the man's hand and back up to Michael's lips (Perfect lips… how did anyone have such nice fucking lips?), "How drunk are you, dude?"

"Not enough." Michael giggled as he pulled the bottle back from his lips, sliding his palm across his face to clean away the excess. He'd had a few glasses during the game with Geoff, and by a few he'd meant he'd lost count.

Geoff held his liquor. He got drunk, but rarely blacked out and only started slurring his speech after a significant amount of bevs. He was generally rational and in control of himself, if not a tad more impulsive and emotional than usual (He tried not to think about the fact that drunk was rapidly becoming usual instead of sober). Michael, however, wasn't as hardened of a drunkard as Geoff, and the tattooed man could see that he had lost control of most of his inhibitions at this point, judging by the giggle. It made him nervous, but slightly excited as well.

 

Gavin chose that moment to walk out of hall, dressed sharply in a button down shirt and black pants. "Bye guys!" He called loudly, only glancing at them for a moment before the door slammed shut. Michael hadn't moved back to his previous position yet, still half-crouched next to Geoff. He slid the bottle back to his lips, nearly tipping over as he did so; his balance clearly mostly gone.

Geoff put a hand on his shoulder to steady him, grabbing the now nearly empty vodka bottle and setting it on the coffee table, "Okay, I think I might have to officially cut you off, man." He wasn't serious, really; Geoff was the last person who had any right to be telling someone that they were drinking too much.

"You're no fun." Michael slurred slightly, finally moving back to sit in a more normal position. He blinked a few times before moving his hands up to rub at his eyes.

"You tired, buddy? It's like fuckin' 6 o'clock," Geoff teased, "I haven't even made dinner." He had hoped that he'd have a little more time with Michael before they settled into their respective bedrooms fro the night.

"I'm not tired." Michael shook his head, it was an obvious lie but he hoped Geoff wouldn't catch on.

"Oh yeah?" Geoff laughed, poking the auburn haired man in the chest, "Then why do you look like you're about to keel over?"

"I don't." Michael whined, standing up from the couch and motioning to his body; ignoring the way his vision spun slightly and he stumbled. "I'm fine, Geoffrey."

"Dude, just take a nap. It's okay. I'll wake you up when dinner's ready or whatever, deal?" Geoff pulled Michael back to the couch. grabbing a blanket and draping it over him.

Michael took a few moments but nodded none the less, gripping the blanket in his hands and tugging it up to his neck. "Okay." Michael curled his legs up slightly, pressing his face against the cushion.

It took about an hour for Geoff to prepare and grill the steaks. He whipped up a batch of mashed potatoes and set two cold beers from the fridge on the counter because, really, he never used the dining room table. He walked over to the couch, grinning at Michael's sleeping form. He looked so innocent, like a baby angel with freckles splattered across his nose and his messy red curls pooled on the throw pillow he'd stuck under his head. Geoff resisted the urge to kiss him on the forehead, instead shaking his shoulders slightly, "Hey, dude. Time to get up."

Michael's grumble fell from his throat when Geoff stirred him awake, opening one eye to look up at him. He was glad for the rest, not realizing how much he had actually needed it. His mind had sobered up a little, but he was lucky enough to not have a headache yet and was instead feeling the tipsy effects. "Hnn.." Michael muttered, running a hand across his face and pushing the curls out of his face.

Geoff laughed at the sleepy look on the man's face, "Come on, steaks! You gotta be hungry. Not that I couldn't eat both of them," he mused.

Michael shuffled off the couch lazily, sleepily nodding his head as he scratched the back of his head and headed towards the kitchen. "They better be delicious."

Geoff scoffed at the idea that they might not be, "How long have you known me, Michael? My food is always delicious."

Michael opened one of the cabinets above his head before standing on his tip toes to grab the plates, his shirt lifted slightly as he reached for them.

Geoff sat down, eyeing the strip of skin. He wasn't sure if Michael was doing this on purpose: teasing him until he literally went mad, or was simply oblivious. Knowing Michael, the latter was more likely.

Michael pulled the plates down, sliding the food unto the both of them. He sat the plates on the counter before sliding into the seat next to the man and taking a sip of the beer in front of him.

Geoff mimicked him, before grabbing one of the forks he'd set out and reaching for one of the steaks on the platter in front of him. He took a scoop of mashed potatoes from the bowl, wiggling his eyebrows at Michael, "All the elements of a healthy meal: you got your meat, you got your carbs, and you got your beer. What else could you need?"

"I guess that covers it, y'know besides vegetables and shit." Michael laughed, cutting into his steak and shoving a bite into his mouth. He couldn't help the slight moan that escaped his throat at the deliciousness of the food.

Geoff blushed because, Jesus Christ, how could someone make such god damn sensual noises over /food/. As he took a bite of his own steak, however, he could help but grin. Fuck fancy kitchens and rare ingredients; Geoff could make the food of the gods with a cheap grill and a couple of spices.

"It's good." Michael murmured, taking a sip of beer to wash it down before shoving a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. "Really good, actually."

"You're damn right it is," Geoff smirked, taking a swig from the bottle in front of him, "This is why you should come over more often: free, delicious food."

 

"Haha, as if I'm not over here bothering you enough." Michael laughed, continuing to stuff the food into his mouth.

"Dude, you aren't. Seriously, I don't think you could ever be over enough to bother me," Geoff said it casually, but he couldn't help the slight flush that came to his cheeks. He focused on his food, cutting a bite of steak and dipping it into his mashed potatoes.

"Aw, you're getting sappy on me, Geoff." Michael smirked, pulling the beer to his mouth and taking a swig before setting it down and taking a bite of his steak. He'd almost finished it all by now, and he didn't doubt he'd clean his plate completely.

Geoff scoffed, but didn't deny it. He ate slowly, enjoying every bite of food and every sound Michael made while eating. They were honestly pretty damn sexual, and Geoff was caught in between arousal and annoyance.

Michael took a minute after he'd finish his food to down the rest of his beer, moving to set the dish in the sink and turn on the water. His sweats had ridden a little lower as he shuffled to the kitchen, but he paid no mind to it as he started to scrub the dish.

Geoff let his gaze drift to Michael's ass as he ate. He didn't want to be creepy, but after a moment's thought, he shrugged. It wasn't hurting anyone, and the combination of the little strip of skin that was visible above his boxer shorts and the firm, smooth curve of his butt made Geoff down the rest of his beer to keep a few arousing fantasies at bay.

After Michael finished washing and drying the plate and put it back in the cabinet before opening the fridge and yanking out another beer.

"Hey, get me another one, will you?" Geoff called from where he was taking the last few bites of his steak.

Michael crouched slightly lower to reach one of the last beers in the back of the fridge, before shutting the door with his foot and reaching across the counter to sit the beer in front of Geoff.

"Thanks, dude," Geoff popped the top of the bottle and took a long drink. God, he wished he were drunker right now. Michael in his stupid, baggy sweats with his stupid, adorable freckles… He leaned his head back, downing half the bottle in one go.

Michael tugged his collar down to scratch at his neck before meandering back towards the living room and plopping down on the couch, absentmindedly watching whatever tv show was on.

 

Geoff stepped around the counter to wash his plate, surreptitiously grabbing a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet and taking a long pull from it after he'd finished. He was going through his supply of alcohol much too quickly this week.

Michael stretched out, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and taking a few sips of his beer. He rested his head back against the back of the couch and absentmindedly clicking his tongue towards the ceiling.

Geoff took a few more gulps of whiskey, barely making a face at the taste. He was used to it by now and the sweet flow of alcohol through his veins was worth it. He walked over to the couch, grabbing his half empty beer bottle from the counter, and sat down next to Michael, "What'd you want to do?"

Michael shrugged, glancing at Geoff as he sat down. "I don't know, what did you want to do?" Michael mused, tapping his foot against the coffee table and enjoying the feeling of his buzz flowing through him.

Geoff snorted at that. It would be so easy to say "You" and kiss Michael passionately. If this were a shitty rom-com, it would have worked, too. Sadly, Geoff's life was more like an action movie, or, if you included Ryan in the mix, a horror film. "I dunno… we could watch a movie?"

"Sounds good, your choice." Michael offered, running a hand through his curls and continuing to sip the beer.

"Ugh. Choices are hard," Geoff sighed, "You pick what we do. I'm too full to care." He sprawled himself over the couch, letting his legs rest on Michael's lap.

Michael chuckled, leaning forward to grab the remote from the coffee table. He searched through the movies that were free on the TV, finally choosing Sharknado and setting it to play. He patted Geoff's feet absentmindedly, relaxing against the couch.

Geoff snorted at the choice, "Dammit. Maybe I shouldn't have let you pick. I watched this with Gav a few weeks ago; it was fucking horrible." He settled himself more fully into the couch with a sigh, sipping at his beer absently. He was well on his way to a happy, lazy drunkenness that seeped into his bones and made him want to do nothing but cuddle Michael on the couch and press kisses into his skin.

"I know, it's fucking amazing." Michael smirked, crossing an ankle over his knee and readjusting his position slightly to lean more comfortably against the couch. He tapped his fingers across Geoff's foot as the movie started to play.

 

"You… are a bad influence," Geoff muttered, "A bad influence with a bad taste in movies," but he was smiling. The way Michael's hand moved rhythmically over his feet was soothing, somehow.

"Haha, you’re the one who's feeding me bottles and bottles of alcohol." Michael laughed, absentmindedly scooting closer to Geoff.

"True. But then again, I only do that to the people I like. No fuckhead is gonna get their hands on my whiskey," Geoff grinned, watching Michael rather than the TV. He'd much rather drink in the man's facial expressions than the shitty CGI onscreen.

Michael absentmindedly rubbed the palm of his hand against his face as he watched the TV, he wasn't too interested in the movie but it was something to watch while he waited for the alcohol to settle in his body.

Geoff closed his eyes, wondering if he'd fall asleep here. It wouldn't be so bad, curled up next to Michael, even if it was still early as hell. The sun was casting its last rays through the wall of windows, a beautiful orange hue settling about the room before fading into the darkness of night time.

Michael glanced at Geoff's resting face before he let out a harsh punch to the man's shin. He waited for the reaction, giggles already falling from his throat. "It's like nine, Geoffrey. You can't sleep already."

Geoff glared at him, "Says the man who took a nap. Some of us need our beauty sleep," he contemplated for a moment, making a face, "Also, ow."

"Shit, Geoff.. you'd need a lot of sleep." Michael grinned, laughing slightly at his own joke. He stuck his tongue out at the man playfully.

"Yeah, well you'd need like… no sleep," Geoff muttered, closing his eyes once more, "Just watch the movie, asshole."

"It's boring." Michael offered, making a pouty face at Geoff even though he couldn't see it.

"You picked it!" Geoff's voice cracked on the last word and he sighed, "Fine. C'mere."

Michael quirked an eyebrow at him, unsure of what the man meant exactly. "Huh?" He asked lamely.

Geoff grabbed Michael's collar, pulling the other man down to lay on top of him, "We're cuddling. Less boring, and I still get my damn nap." He felt a small shiver of excitement run through him at having Michael so close to him, warm and solid.

Michael let himself fall unto the older man, grinning happily as let his hand rest onto Geoff's collar bone. It was nice, the comforting feeling of the older man against him. He couldn't help but fall into the embrace, knee resting in between Geoff's as he inhaled the man's scent.

Geoff let one hand drift to Michael curls, tangling there as he ran his hand through the other man's hair. He wanted to press a kiss to the top of Michael's head, but he still wasn't drunk enough- or brave enough- to do it. Maybe if he knew for sure… "Hey, Michael. You didn't, uh… sleep with Ryan, did you?" He chastised himself for ruining the moment, but he had to know.

Michael arched his back to look at Geoff, he furrowed his brow. "No, I didn't sleep sleep with him, I just slept with him." Michael murmured, letting his head fall back onto the man's chest.

"Good," Geoff took the younger man's face in his hands and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. He knew he was probably blushing furiously, but at least… at least he'd know, now that he'd finally worked up the balls to do something.

Michael pulled back, moving to sit up as he stared at Geoff. He wasn't sure why he slid a hand across Geoff's face, brow furrowing in confusion towards the man. It was different than Ryan, and he couldn't help compare the two; Geoff was all about gentleness, while Ryan was all predator.

"Sorry," Geoff mumbled, "I just-" he wanted to avoid saying 'I'm fucking in love with you,' afraid that that might scare the man off. Instead he simply ended the sentence with, "I've been wanting to do that for a long time."

Michael furrowed his brow once more before pressing his lips to the man's, pressing a hand to the man's chest to hold him up slightly. He wanted to blame it on the alcohol, but he knew most of it was just his own emotions and the fact that this was a nice distraction.

Geoff smiled, closing his eyes and relaxing into the kiss. It was warm and gentle, just as he'd imagined it would be. Sure, Michael's lips were chapped and the smell of alcohol was heavy on both of their breaths, but Geoff had been dreaming of this moment for a long time, he could deal with that. He used on arm to pull Michael closer, snaking a hand up the back of his shirt to caress the warm flesh, and swept his tongue across the man's lower lip languidly, asking for entrance.

Michael moved closer as he opened his mouth, pressing his lips lazily against the mans, he slid his legs on either side of Geoff; situating himself so that he was sitting in the man's lap. He pressed a palm to each side of Geoff's neck, tilting his head slightly as he continued to kiss the man passionately.

Geoff sighed happily, pulling away from the kiss to murmur, "God, you're so fucking perfect," into Michael ear. He kissed his way down the younger man's jaw line to his neck, brow furrowing when he noticed the bruises already marring it. He stroked over the spot, raising his head to give Michael a confused look, "What's this?"

Michael cringed when the man discovered the bruises that were already lacing his neck. "Uh." Michael tried to get his mind to clear, moving forward to kiss Geoff's jaw instead of answering. He was hoping distracting might work, not ready for the attention to end.

Geoff gently grabbed Michael's shoulders, pushing him back, "Michael…" He wasn't sure what he wanted to hear, or if he'd rather not have discovered the bruises at all, but he knew he couldn't ignore it. Even drunk, that's the way Geoff was: he'd focus in on something, analyzing the microscopic details and implication until it made his head spin and he needed another drink.

"Geoff..." Michael warned back, moving forward again to kiss his neck. He wasn't sure why he wasn't ready to answer it. Maybe he wasn't ready for the guilt, or maybe he just wasn't ready for Geoff to get angry again. He didn't know why he was being so needy, but he was quick to blame it on the alcohol.

Geoff submitted to the kiss, gazing up at the ceiling with a worried look on his face, "We're not done talking about this," he warned, but any effectiveness the statement might have had was negated by the slight groan he let out when Michael nipped his skin.

Michael smirked triumphantly, pressing two fingers to Geoff's chin in order to have better access to the mans neck. He adjusted his hips slightly, grinding down a little as he did so. Michael licked the man's skin lightly before sucking the same spot.

Geoff moaned, letting his hands slide up to grip the younger man's hips gently, "Michael…." He breathed out the name like a prayer, lifting his hips slightly to meet the other's.

Michael grinned against Geoff's skin at the man's reaction, moving his hips again just to encourage more of the reactions. He let his hands move down to Geoff's shirt, tugging on the edges of the material.

Geoff conceded, raising his arms above his head to allow Michael to tug the shirt off him, revealing the rest of his tattoos. They extended from his wrists all the way up to his shoulders before snaking down onto his chest. There were a couple of gang signs, a shit ton of game references, and a variety of colorful, complex patterns that wound their way around his arms and onto his torso. Geoff reciprocated the gesture, lifting up Michael's t-shirt with a silly little grin.

Michael leaned back to tug his shirt off, tossing it to the side uncaringly. He ran his fingertips across the man's tattoos, observing the various colors and prints. He leaned down to press a kiss to just below the man's collar bone, letting his hips arch as he did so.

Geoff let a pleasured shudder run through him, moaning softly at the touches. He tangled his fingers in Michael's hair once more, not forcing him to move anywhere, just holding him and enjoying the sensation. God, he hoped Gavin's date was going well, because he didn't think he could stand being interrupted right now. His fantasies couldn't even begin to compare to the reality; Michel slowly taking control as they worked in tandem, gently rocking into each other, emitting soft noises as they did so. Perfect noises… everything just felt so damn right, if he forgot about the bruises.

Michael opened his mouth against Geoff's skin, sucking against his chest before pressing a light bite to the skin. He let his hands rest on Geoff's hips, steadying himself as he circled his hips teasingly. He peeked up at Geoff from where he was currently kissing the man's skin; lips trailing lower as he did so. He whined in his throat lowly, a testing act to see just how far he could drive Geoff's pleasure.

Geoff's eyes rolled back in his head and he breathed heavily, trying to stifle the noises that were begging to be released from his throat, "I swear to God, Michael… if you don't-" He couldn't even finish the sentence before he let out a low moan.

Michael smirked, pulling away from Geoff's chest to look at him for a few moments, catching his breath. The realization of the situation hit him fast, causing his brows to furrow together in concern. He shook his head, trying to mask it and pressing a sharp kiss to Geoff's lips, hands sliding across the man's chest as he did so.

Geoff moved his hands from Michael hair to wrap them around his waist, pulling the younger man flush with his chest. He spattered Michael's face with kisses, lingering on the tip of his nose, his forehead, and ending in a deep kiss on his lips. He knew Michael wasn't ready to hear him say it, but the words 'I love you' pulsed from every fiber of his being in waves.

Michael was torn between loving and hating the slow attention the man was giving him, he kissed back when Geoff's lips finally landed on where he wanted them to, sliding his hands down to Geoff's stomach, fingers dancing across the man's hips.

"I vote," Geoff breathed as he pulled away from Michael's lips, leaving only a sliver of space between them, "We not fuck on the couch… Gavin might come in." He slid his hands down to Michael's ass, giving it a light squeeze and grinning.

Michael moaned when Geoff grabbed his ass, hips bucking against the other man's hips. "Yeah, okay." Michael nodded, pulling away as well. It was official, he'd feel ridiculously guilty in the morning.

Geoff grabbed his hand and stood, dragging him rather quickly down the hallway and into the bedroom. Ryan's clothes were still balled up on the floor, his boxers discarded in the bathroom from his morning shower. Geoff didn't notice; he simply guided Michael to the bed, sitting on the edge of it and pulling the younger man into his lap.

Michael glanced at the clothes hesitantly, he really should stop this before it begins. He guessed it was a little too late for that, as he wiggled his hips slightly on top of Geoff's lap, pressing a fervent kiss to the man's neck.

The older man returned the favor, nipping at Michael's ear and breathing a string of compliments and curses into it: "Fuck, you're so amazing. God, Michael… Jesus Christ, you're so fucking perfect." The words were accompanied by lewd moans as Michael ground down into his hips, Geoff's bucking involuntarily to follow them.

Michael had to admit, Geoff was incredibly vocal and he didn't entirely mind it. "Ah, fuck.." Michael moaned loudly, moving from kissing Geoff's neck to just resting his head against him. The compliments sent a shudder through his body, grinding down   
harder against him.

Geoff's hands fumbled in between them as he pulled down Michael's zipper, reaching to tug down the man's boxers before pausing, "Is this okay? Because I don't want to pressure you into anything you aren't ready to do or- but, God Michael. I'll make it so fucking good for you I swear," he kissed the other man gently on the cheek, trailing his lips down to the younger man's neck and sucking a fresh hickey amongst the old, fading bruises.

Unsure of his decision, Michael was pretty sure he couldn't of refused even if he wanted to. Especially with the way Geoff was sucking against his neck. "Yeah, yeah." Michael nodded, moving a hand to grab at the back of Geoff's neck and tug his fingers through his hair. He ground his hips down again. The alcohol, again was what Michael blamed.

At that, Geoff slipped his hand into Michael's boxers, giving the other man's half hard length a gentle stroke. Meanwhile, he kissed at Michael's collarbone, determined to suck more marks into the other man's skin than his predecessor, whoever that was.

"Shit, Geoff..ah." Michael moaned, thrusting his hips into Geoff's hand and arching his back. "Fuck." Michael's voice was more of a whine than a moan, as he gnawed on his lip.

Geoff increased his pace, grinning at the sounds he was drawing from the other man. His erection strained against his jeans, twitching every time Michael let out a whine or a moan. He used the hand not stroking Michael's cock to reach up and brush against the man's nipple, still marking every inch of skin he could find.

Michael continued to move his hips, whines falling from his throat. He leant closer to the man, dragging a hand down the man's chest and towards his pants; pressing his palm against his jeans and waiting for the man's reaction. "Shit." Michael whispered hotly.

Geoff's eyelids fluttered and he panted out, "Go for it, please. Michael…" and then his words were lost in another moan, his free hand reaching up to tug gently at the younger man's hair.

Michael smirked, flicking the button on the man's pants open and tugging them down, he tugged down the man's boxers as well; gripping Geoff tightly and stroking him a few times before moving off of his lap and crouching on his knees. He glanced up at Geoff, brown eyes meeting the older man's.

Geoff tightened his grip on Michael's curls, letting out a soft whine of anticipation. It should be illegal for someone to look this good, kneeling in between his legs and just staring up at him. Those freckles would be the death of him, too. He bit his lip, trying to avoid bucking his hips forward to obtain some kind of friction.

He shuddered at the feeling of Geoff's hand in his curls. Michael wrapped a hand around him, and leant his head in. He kissed at Geoff's thighs, purposefully avoiding where he knew Geoff would want the most. He stroked his hand at a slow, teasing pace; flicking his thumb across the tip.

Geoff's eyes rolled back in his head and his grip on the edge of the bed grew white-knuckled. This was fucking torture, sheer, blissful torture. He panted heavily, letting out a few choice curses under his breath and a needy whine when Michael's thumb flicked over the head of his cock.

Michael finally gave in, pulling Geoff into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks. He let his tongue press against Geoff's dick; hands gripping unto the man's thighs as he slid him further down his throat. He had enough talent to hold back his gag reflex for the most part.

"Oh God.. fuck…" Geoff breathed, losing himself in the warm, wet feeling of Michael's mouth. He forced himself to open his eyes, looking down at the beautifully obscene way the younger man's lips stretched around his cock. He tried not to buck his hips involuntarily, instead saying every little thought that came into his head. "You're so fucking… amazing, Michael. Fucking beautiful. This- this should be illegal, damn. I can't… so good," he bit down on his lip to stop the flow of words before he uttered 'I love you.'

Michael continued his torture, bobbing his head around the man's dick and sucking harshly. He couldn't help the whimper that fell from his throat at the praise, his own hips bucking against nothing but the air. He wasn't sure why Geoff's encouragement got him so aroused, but he was shivering visibly as the words flowed through Geoff's mouth and into his ears.

"I swear to God, Michael… if you don't stop right now, I'm going to fucking come down the back of your throat," Geoff wasn't sure if that was what Michael wanted or not, but either way, he would comply. He let go of his hold on the other man's hair to grip the edge of the bed more tightly. It was getting harder and harder to resist the urge to thrust into Michael's mouth.

Michael grinned around him, throwing him a cheeky wink and opening his mouth further to allow him to slide down lower in his throat. He swallowed around him, winding a hand up to stroke what he couldn't reach, cupping the man's balls gently. His other hand tightened on his thigh, probably bruising slightly.

Geoff came with a cry as Michael's tongue flicked over him, momentarily lost in the white hot bliss of his orgasm. He opened his eyes, looking down at the man between his legs with an expression that was practically reverent. He stroked Michael's cheek with the back of one hand, grinning.

Michael swallowed it down easily, pulling away and wiping away any excess saliva and come from his lips. He leaned into Geoff's touch, smiling broadly up at him.

"You shouldn't be allowed to look this good," Geoff growled, "C'mere," he tugged roughly at Michael's wrists, prompting him to stand up.

Michael resisted the urge to whine loudly at the compliment, instead moving to his feet and following Geoff's directions easily. He was patient enough, but his hard on was starting to cause discomfort. 

Geoff pushed down Michael's jeans and boxers, allowing them to sled to the floor. He leaned down to place a light kiss on the head of Michael's dick, before stroking him with one hand. He preferred that his mouth be free to whisper praise into the younger man's ear, which is exactly what he did.

"You're so fucking beautiful, you know that? With your stupid freckles and your pretty as dicks mouth… Come on Michael, come for me," he hissed the last phrase out lovingly, quickening his pace and using his other hand to tweak Michael's nipple and grab at his hair.

"Ah, shit... hn." Michael whined loudly, hips bucking up as he felt Geoff's breath in his ear. With Geoff's words and his hand working perfectly against him, it didn't take Michael long at all, especially when he requested he come for him. It only took a second or so after, the feeling of a hand in his hair causing his hips to buck one final time as he came. "Fuck, Geoff!"

Geoff kissed him gently on the lips afterwards, walking to the bathroom and wetting down a washcloth which he used to wipe both their stomachs of the sticky substance. He kicked off his own pants, leaving himself in just the boxers, and pulled Michael into bed with him, curling lovingly around the younger man as they lay like two spoons nestled together. He looped his arms around Michael's waist, burying his face in the man's curls with a happy sigh.

 

Michael yawned tiredly, yanking up his boxers before Geoff pulled him into bed. Michael thread one of his legs back and in between Geoff's, successfully getting closer to the man. He curled his arms up and under his head, eyes closing sleepily as he hummed lightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let us know what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning, when Geoff awoke, he was confused by the warmth next to him. Then the memories of the night before came rushing back and he grinned. He wasn't dreaming; Michael was here, in his bed, legs tangled up with his.

Michael murmured in his sleep lightly, shuffling to turn his body around and wrapping his arms around the man's waist; cuddling to him tightly.

Geoff kissed Michael gently on the forehead, and then on the nose. He couldn't stop smiling, even though his head was pounding slightly. He briefly wondered whether or not Gav was home, but tossed the thought aside. This was too important to interrupt with anything else. He just needed to soak up the sight and sound and feel of Michael Jones against his skin.

Michael's eyes blinked open when Geoff kissed his forehead and then his nose, squinting at the man in the harsh sunlight that was streaming through the windows. He slid a hand against his head, whimpering slightly as his head throbbed painfully. He didn't make any move to pull away from the man, however, burying his face further in Geoff's neck.

"Hey," Geoff murmured, tracing over Michael's back with his fingertips, "It's like 11 o'clock. Want to get breakfast or something?"

Michael shook his head, he'd been right when he said he'd feel incredibly guilty in the morning. He curled up tighter, tangling his fingers in the back of his curls. "No." Michael whined.

"C'mon, dude. You need to get that excess alcohol out of your system somehow," Geoff wrinkled his forehead, a thought suddenly occurred to him, "You… do remember what happened last night, right?"

"Yeah, yeah we boned. I know." Michael muttered, nodding his head before his vision spun and the nausea in his throat increased. He pulled away from Geoff quickly, his feet hitting the ground hard as he ran to the connecting bathroom. He opened the toilet and emptied his stomach painfully.

Geoff made an alarmed noise when Michael bolted, his expression quickly shifting to disgust and guilt and the sounds coming from the bathroom. He'd forgotten that most people didn't hold their liquor quite as well as him in the mornings. He got up, walking into the bathroom to see if Michael needed someone to hold his hair.

Michael groaned as he flushed the toilet and rested his head against the toilet bowl, not the most sanitary; but to be honest he wasn't feeling the most sanitary. He rubbed the back of his palm across his lips, tears still pricking at his eyes at the acid he'd thrown up.

 

Geoff crouched down, rubbing Michael's back in slow circles, "Do you want me to get you some painkillers or something?"

Michael nodded, looking up at Geoff poutingly. "Please?" He asked quietly, moving to stand up and turn on the water so that he could brush his teeth with the extra toothbrush he had here.

Geoff reached into the medicine cabinet, shaking a few prescription painkillers he'd gotten off the black market into his hand. He filled the glass on the counter with water from the tap and offered both to Michael.

Michael threw them down easily, ignoring the rough itch in his throat and chugging down the glass of water. He handed the glass back before beginning to brush his teeth.

Geoff did likewise, knowing his breath probably reeked of day-old alcohol. He spit into the sink and splashed his face with water. He didn't quite want to break the awkward silence that had fallen between them.

Michael glanced at his reflection in the mirror for a few moments, the bags under his eyes were darker than yesterday; despite the sleep he'd gotten. His eyes were still bloodshot, and he grimaced as his eyes scanned over the hickies Geoff had graciously given him. His shirt would cover most of them, but never the less there were a few stray ones on his neck that he didn't think he'd be able to cover.

"Sorry about that," Geoff muttered when he noticed Michael eyeing the bruises. Personally, he enjoyed the way they colored the younger man's flesh like loving brands, but they'd probably be difficult to hide.

"Yeah, well. Can't do anything about it now." Michael decided, turning away from his reflection to head out of the bathroom. He made quick haste in moving to grab one of his pairs of jeans; tugging the material up his hips.

Geoff watched him from the doorway, leaning awkwardly on the frame with his arms crossed. He chewed his lip nervously, "... You're not going to stay, are you?" He closed his eyes, bracing himself for the answer.

Michael finished buttoning up his jeans and zipping them before glancing at the man. Everything about him made Michael want to hug him, to hold unto him, to spend an afternoon away from reality. However, he'd been stuck inside for an entire day at this point and the need to leave was itching down his back. "I was gonna grab lunch." Michael murmured simply.

Geoff walked over the the other man, going him a quick, loose hug. He kissed the top of Michael's curls, a silent 'Please come back' pressed in between them. He move away, flashing a wan smile at the younger man, Geoff knew he wouldn't, that Michael would run away back to the safety of his own apartment, leaving the older man with only Gavin and a bottle of whiskey for company. He just hoped he hadn't ruined everything.

Michael smiled up at him, a bit forced but not noticeable. He grabbed a tank top, sliding it over his head and tugging the ends down before he stretched his arms up over his head and started walking from the room. He was thrilled for the escape, ready to get clear away from this apartment and all who was in it.

"Hi Michael!" Gavin shouted cheerily, waving at the man as he walked in. "Where're you going boi?" 

Michael smirked at the name, responding with a quick "Out, boi. See ya!" As he grabbed his hoodie from the counter and started to tug on his shoes. Michael brought his foot up to rest against the wall as he tied it. 

Geoff was about to tug on his jeans from last night before he noticed the small, white stain near the pocket. He threw them into his laundry basket in disgust, uncaringly walking out into the living room in just his boxers. He flopped onto the couch next to Gavin with a small sigh, "Hey, Gav. How was your date?"

"Hi Geoffrey, I guess it went pretty top; we headed down to the theater and watched some fancy shit." Gavin answered, patting the back of his hand against Geoff's chest. "How was yours?" He motioned with his eyebrows back to Michael who was in the middle of tying his left shoe.

Geoff let his head fall back, resting it on the top of one of the couch cushions. He cut his eyes to the side, giving Gavin a blank stare, "How do you think?" He wasn't going to give the man a straight answer, not with Michael still in the room.

Gavin peered up to wait for Michael to leave, smirking when the door slammed and he turned back to Geoff expectantly. "Did you two make up?" Gavin questioned curiously, poking at the man's chest. 

 

"Yes... And then no. I might've fucked up, Gav," Geoff sighed, "I don't want to talk about it. I'd rather beat your ass in Peggle and drink until I can't see straight."

Gavin nodded before smirking at the possibility of game nights and bevs. "Prepare to be defeated, Geoff." Gavin grabbed the game off of the table and slammed it forcefully into the xbox.

Michael nearly sped down to the elevator, heading just to the right of it so that he could jog down the stairs instead. He nearly took out a man carrying groceries, flipping the guy off when he told him to slow down.Michael was still jogging by the time he reached the street, pausing for a moment; he caught his breath. 

"Fuck!" He shouted, to nothing in particular.

He glared back at the shocked faces surrounding him, and the ones scurrying away. After a second he composed himself, sticking his hands into his pockets and walking along the street in search of some food.

Ryan stared at his menu thoughtfully, regretting his decision to get some fresh air. Yesterday had been... Loaded, filled with too much introspection to be truly enjoyable. He couldn't concentrate on his books or documentaries, gaze flitting to his yet to be repaired mask every few seconds. Finally, he'd melted down some plastic and sealed the hole, painting it over with gray acrylic and a clear coat to keep it water repellent. He'd given in to his desires and spent a few, delicious hours pouring over old photographs, relishing the memories they stirred up. Today, however, he needed fresh air and his favorite diner seemed like the perfect place to go. Unfortunately, they'd changed chefs of late and Ryan was disappointed by the distinct lack of meat in the new menu.

Michael had been walking for a good ten minutes, hugging his hoodie tighter to his body despite the heat Los Santons was pouring on them. He'd bumped shoulders with busy people trying to get to work, sliding his body in and out of the crowds before finally noting the distinctly quiet diner to his left. He shoved a kid out of the way as he made his way inside, eyes scanning over the restaurant. He noted Ryan quickly, and made the motion to walk backwards from the building. 

"Sir, how many?" A waitress demanded before he could escape. 

Michael frowned at her, "Uh.."

Ryan looked up at the quiet ding of the bell above the diner's door and spotted Michael, staring awkwardly at one of the diner's two waitresses.

"He's with me," Ryan called out to her, smirking at the younger man.

Michael felt his breath catch in his throat, well fuck. So much for escaping the stressful situations in his life. He smiled politely back at the waitress as she walked away, leaving him to find his own way over to Ryan. He had half a mind to run out the door, but thought better of it and moved to sit down across from him. "Hey." Michael greeted, eyes gazing over the man.

"What brings you here?" Ryan quirked an eyebrow, sliding his menu over to the younger man. There was nothing good on it, anyways. He let his eyes flit over Michael's face, the only part of him that wasn't covered by a hoodie. He looked exhausted, eyes bloodshot and baggy. He couldn't have gotten much sleep, Ryan mused.

"Food." Michael answered simply, eyes scanning across the menu. He let his other hand slide to his face, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. He couldn't help feeling guilty over how upset Geoff would be if he knew he was here right now, it left a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"They just changed chefs, I can't really recommend anything," Ryan said, leaning back in his seat. Engaging in this kind of small talk felt odd, especially given that it was Michael. He rarely discussed the weather or any such pleasantries, content to sit in relative silence.

"It's fine, food is food." Michael shrugged, leaning back to waggle his finger for the waitress to come over. She took their order quickly, Michael smiling charismatically as he asked for water and a bacon burger. He ran a hand through his hair and slouched back in seat comfortably, eyeing the man across from him lazily.

Ryan stared back at him calmly, putting his hands behind his head. He had no idea what to say, unused to the awkwardness that not-quite relationships and one night stands bring. Honestly, the closest thing he'd had to an intimate relationship had occurred years ago, before he moved to Los Santos. She'd been pretty, loved computers, and more than a little bit kinky. They'd flitted around each other for months before she'd asked him out. They'd dated for awhile before she discovered the not quite literal skeletons in his closet and left, unprepared to deal with someone so "mentally unstable" as she'd called him.

"So uh..." Michael offered, licking at his lips absentmindedly. "How are you?" The awkwardness was intensely uncomfortable, and he leant forward to play with his silverware just to have something to do.

"Fine," Ryan shrugged, "I haven't murdered anybody lately, if that's what you're asking," he gave Michael a shark like grin, predatory and deadly calm.

Michael couldn't help the shiver that ran through him at the answer. "Well, that's good. I guess." Michael’s foot tapped under the table as he twirled the knife in between his fingers; a trick he'd learned from Ray surprisingly. He thanked the waitress when she sat the water glass in front of him.

Ryan sipped the orange juice the waitress handed him, enjoying the tang of citrus on his tongue. He eyed Michael's fingers curiously, wondering where he'd learned the trick. Of course, Ryan had been able to handle a knife with ease since he was a teenager, so he wasn't that impressed, but it was something he hadn't known about the other man.

Michael dropped the knife to take a swig of his drink, relishing in the cold liquid as he swallowed it down. He was feeling overwhelmed by the silence, trying to focus on the quiet conversations of the four others that were in the diner; anything to take away from Ryan's intimidating gaze. He set the glass back, letting his elbows rest against the table as he waited for their food.

Ryan took the knife from where Michael had set it down, flipping it over the tops of his fingers. He wished he had his butterfly knife, which was tucked away underneath his bed at home, or even the switchblade he'd left at Geoff's house. He wasn't sure if the other man would be scared or impressed, but Ryan felt that either way, it would've been a victory.

"Show off." Michael chuckled, but observed the man's fingers any way. He grinned up at the waitress as she sat the food down. "Need anything else?" She asked carefully, not straying her eyes from Michael's.

"We're fine," Ryan gave her a tight lipped smile, grabbing his plate. He'd ordered a burger, rare, because this was one of the non expensive places in Los Santos that had bothered to get the certification to serve rare meats that weren't steak. When he looked at it though, the meat had a dark tinge and he gritted his teeth. It seemed he'd either have to talk to the chef or find a new diner, a prospect Ryan did not look forward to. He specifically came here because they knew what he liked and were deathly afraid of him, and that meant they'd usually leave him alone.

The girl nodded, giving them one last glance as she left. Michael was quick to bite into his burger, content with simply having something in his stomach. It was a leftover habit of his childhood, an orphanage where most days were spent counting portions between multiple children and more often than not Michael was forced into giving his food away to the older ones. It wasn't as if the food had been any good there anyway, they got mainly donations from grocery stores with nearly out of date food that they couldn't sell legally anymore. He finished his bite, shoving a french fry into his mouth.

Ryan picked at his burger lazily, snorting when Michael started simply shoveling food into his mouth. "Jesus… If you're really that hungry, you can have mine," he pushed the plate over, but not before snagging a handful of fries. At least they were still delicious.

Michael shrugged his shoulders once before reaching to take a bite of whatever burger Ryan had gotten, he certainly wasn't going to say no to the offer. After a few more bites he was adequately stuffed, and took a few more sips of his drink to wash it down.

"Busy day yesterday?" Ryan asked, "Because you look dead on your feet," he raised an eyebrow, popping another fry into his mouth and chewing slowly.

"Uh, yeah." Michael nodded, leaning back against the booth. "I guess I haven't fully recovered from the near death shit either."

Ryan shrugged, "That's never really bothered me, personally. It's just an adrenaline high, when you think about it." He made a face, clarifying his statement, "Not that I get off to it. I happen to like being alive."

 

"Yeah, maybe I'm just a wimp about it." Michael muttered, taking another sip of his drink. Michael looked around the room to distract himself, furrowing his brows at he glanced at the waitresses who were looking at them and talking in hushed whispers. "What's that about?"

Ryan shrugged, "Oh, I mostly come here alone. I'd guess that they're surprised I have friends. Well, associates, but they don't know that." He took another sip of his juice, not bothering to glance over at the women.

"Huh." Michael quirked an eyebrow but turned back around to glance at the man. He was glad for the painkillers Geoff had given him, they were working miracles against his hangover. He tapped his fingers against the table, unsure of how to address the man anymore. Conversation was so difficult with Ryan, or maybe it was just him feeling nervous around the man that made it difficult.

Ryan set his glass back on the table to shrug off his jacket. It was made of leather, utterly identical to the one he'd worn two days ago. Underneath it, he sported only a tank top due to the blistering heat that blanketed Los Santos. He was surprised that Michael was wearing a hoodie, all things considered. The man was a New Jersey native, still unused to the varying temperatures of the west coast and often complained about it. "So, what's with the hoodie?" Ryan asked, voicing his thoughts.

"Are you a fashion designer all of a sudden?" Michael replied snidely, smirk falling on his lips. He tried not to look at Ryan's body, his muscles looking quite good in the form fitting tank top. He leaned back, digging his hands into the pockets of his hoodie protectively.

Ryan raised his eyebrows at that; he hadn't expected the man to be so defensive about choice in clothing. "You do realize it's 90 degrees outside, don't you?" He stretched his arms above his head, about ready to give up on "fresh air" and go back home to his books.

"It's not that hot." Michael defended, though if he was being truthful he was sweating like an asshole inside his hoodie. Though he really didn't want to explain his hickies to Ryan, especially not when they involved Geoff.

Ryan gave him a blank stare, "You were complaining a week ago that 80 degrees was 'probably the same temperature as hell'," Honestly, he didn't really care what Michael wore, but he was slightly concerned that the other man was going to die of a heat stroke some time relatively soon.

"You just want to see me strip." Michael chuckled sarcastically, he'd made the comment before realizing who he was talking too. He ran a hand along the back of his neck, his fidgeting continuing to get the best of him.

 

Ryan smirked, reaching forward to fiddle with one of the strings that controlled the hood's movements, "Hmm, maybe that's true, but seeing you laid out on a metal table so that I can identify your body is not the first time I want to see you naked. Ah, poor John Doe… died of a heat stroke because he was too shy to take off his sweatshirt."

Michael glanced down at the man's hands on the strings of his hoodie, already frustrated with the blush that was forming. Realistically he should push him away, but there was something that made him stay completely still. "I hardly think I'd die of a heat stroke, there's air conditioning in here."

Ryan released the string with a shrug, "Fine, but I'm about to walk home. I don't know how you're going to get back to your apartment wearing that thing."

"I'll figure something out." Michael muttered, moving to rest his head against the table. Honestly, when Ryan left he'd probably spend a few hours here, order a coffee or something and just relax. Pretend he was normal for a few hours.

Ryan shrugged, "Alright, then. I'm going to talk to the chef and then leave," he reached out to give Michael's hoodie string a final tug, closing the fabric around the man's face, "Just don't die."

Michael rolled his eyes as he tugged the fabric around from his face and back down comfortably. "I'll try. Have a good day, Ryan." Michael muttered, kicking his feet up to lounge on the booth.

Ryan shrugged his jacket back on, slipping silently past the waitresses and into the kitchen. The new chef was a tall, spindly man with short-cropped hair. His expression was vacant as he flipped the patty of meat currently sizzling on the stove. Ryan grabbed a kitchen knife from one of the racks nearby, just in case he'd need it. "Hello, you'd be the chef, correct?"

Michael furrowed his brows as the man retreated into the kitchen, but shrugged it off when one of the waitresses walked back. "Hi, are you all done here?" Michael smiled, "Actually, I'd like a coffee if you don't mind. Make it however, I don't care." She nodded, walking away. Michael slid his arms behind his head, resting casually back into them.

The man started slightly, whipping around to see Ryan leaning casually against the counter, carelessly twilling the knife as if it were a circus baton rather than a weapon. He combed a hand through his sparse hair nervously, stammering out a "H-hello, how can I help you?"

Ryan smirked at the chef's nerves, reveling in the simple power a blade in his hands brought him, "Well, you see, my burger was a bit overdone, and I'd like to make sure that doesn't happen again."

Michael closed his eyes for a few moments, content to just sit here and relax. Though he was a little curious as to what Ryan was doing, he hadn't heard the door ding closed yet. He decided to choose the better option of not bothering the man. He opened an eye when his coffee was set down, glancing at the waitress who sat down across from him. "You know that guy?" She whispered quietly, as if Ryan was still able to hear them. 

Michael resisted the urge to laugh at her. "Yeah." Michael answered back simply.

“You /really/ know that guy?" She questioned again, staring him down

. "Is there something the matter with him?" Michael asked, somewhat defensively.”

The chef blinked, surprised that he was being threatened over an overcooked piece of meat, "I- of course, sir. It won't happen again…" he trailed off.

Ryan took a step closer, casually reaching out to brush a small bit of flour off the man's shirt,   
"You see, the last cook and I had an… understanding. He'd serve what I liked, and I wouldn't rat him out to the police about the drugs he was selling on the side," Ryan slipped his hand into the pocket of the chef's pants, chuckling when he jumped. He grabbed the bag of small, white powder hidden there and dangled it tauntingly from his fingertips. The man chewed his lip nervously, unable to meet Ryan's eyes.

"Well, uh.. I mean. I don't want to alarm you if you don't know, but he's not exactly a good guy. He's a threat." The waitress told him, eyes nearly pitying? He wasn't sure. 

Michael let the laughter fall from his throat, quirking an eyebrow up at her. "Yeah, okay. Thanks. I'll keep that in mind." 

She huffed in frustration. "I'm serious." 

Michael chuckled a little more before nodding. "You really oughta be more careful talking to complete strangers about him, y'know. Guy doesn't really take lightly to being ratted out."

"I'm not sure if you're an addict, a dealer, or both, but either way, you work for me now. Well, not me specifically," Ryan grinned, "You work for the Hunters. Is that understood? We generally don't take people muscling in on our territory lightly, so I'd count yourself… lucky that it's me you're dealing with." Really, the chef would've fared better if someone else on the crew had caught him. At least then he would've even dealt with quickly, but Ryan preferred the long game. He'd toy with the man, driving him mad and making him so paranoid that he'd either flee town like the last cook or snap and attack his tormentor. Either way, Ryan was glad to have these little games to play. They distracted him from the itch in his fingers and left him more sated than the diner food ever could.

 

Michael wanted to roll his eyes at the look the waitress gave him, she shuffled nervously from the table; nodding her head in a silent understanding. "I won't tell." Michael offered, "I think I'll take the coffee to go though, if you'd please."

Ryan tossed the bag carelessly back to the chef, who fumbled it nervously, and walked back through kitchen's double doors. He waved to Michael, smirking, ready to head back to his apartment and finish his latest Stephen King novel.

Michael shifted from the table, taking the glass with him as he went. He wasn't planning on following Ryan or anything, he just felt like he needed to go home and sleep for a few thousand hours or so. He took a sip of the hot coffee, cursing himself that he'd chosen coffee on such a blistering day. He pushed out of the doors, accidentally slamming it into a blonde haired guy who'd been walking down the street.

"What the fuck!?" The man shouted, slamming a hand into Michaels chest.

Ryan turned around at the commotion, spotting Michael and a very angry looking man in baggy jeans that sagged, showing his striped boxer shorts, and a black wife beater. He had a tattoo on his left shoulder, signifying his allegiance to one of the smaller Los Santos gangs. The words 'unstable' and 'dangerous' flashed briefly through Ryan's mind before he began walking back towards Michael.

Michael was quick to react, slamming a fist to the man's stomach in response. The guy recovered quickly, throwing a punch straight to Michael's temple. Nice to know he wasn't fucking around, Michael thought. He lunged at him, grabbing the man by his collar and grimacing when the man did the same thing to him. He winced when the man landed a rather painful punch to his eye, retorting back with a quick punch to the man's nose. They were both heated and angry, fueled by defensive personalities and paranoid lives. 

When the fight broke out, Ryan quickened his pace to a jog, pushing through the slight crowd that was beginning to gather to watch the fight. He grabbed the man currently punching Michael from behind, looping on arm around his neck and tightly pressing his forearm into the man's trachea, effectively choking him.

Michael glared in response, rage still coursing through him as he stumbled slightly from foot to foot. "My battle, asshole." Michael growled, clearly frustrated that Ryan had taken over. The man was gasping and grabbing at Ryan's arm, feet kicking out as his nails dug in.

Ryan rolled his eyes, "Sorry to hurt your pride," he felt the man go limp in his grasp and dropped him easily to the concrete, "But it looks like you're just going to have to find some other way to get your rocks off." He gave Michael a cursory once-over, eyeing the swelling around his eye with distaste. He kicked the downed man in the stomach once for good measure, irrationally angry at the bruises he'd given Michael.

Michael was thankful for the now dispersing crowd, though he thought that one woman might've called the cops. He slid the back of his hand against his mouth, wiping the blood away and keeping his eyes piercing on Ryan's. He could still feel the rage flowing through him and he resisted the intense urge to punch the man in the face.

Ryan took Michael's face in one hand, keeping it still as he looked at the man's swelling eye, "You're going to need an ice pack," Ryan said, poking the skin around it with a finger.

Michael let his arms hang limp at his side, though a large part of him was wanting to grip unto the man in front of him. He winced when Ryan poked near his eye, flinching his head back slightly. 

"I'll get one when I go home." Michael muttered, he was still angry at the man for not letting him beat the guy up, though his rage was starting to stutter to a stop. "I could've taken him y'know."

"I don't doubt it, but you'd have ended up with a lot more than black eye. Plus, he probably had a knife, judging from that gang tattoo, and you do not," Ryan shook his head. He grabbed the corners of Michael's hoodie, preparing to tug it over the other man's head and check for other injuries. He didn't want Michael dying of a broken rib or internal bleeding on his watch.

Michael brought his hands down to hold the corners of his hoodie so that the man couldn't tug it up. "Knives don't scare me." Michael grunted back.

"Then you're an idiot. Come on, take off the hoodie," Ryan frowned. Why was Michael being so insistent about this? Ryan was even sweating slightly in just his leather jacket, he couldn't imagine how hot the other man was under the layer of thick cotton.

"N-no." Michael shook his head, mentally cursing himself for stuttering. He moved back slightly, he didn't know why he was so adamant about it. It's not like Ryan owned him, it's not like Ryan could even rightfully say something about them.

Ryan furrowed his brow in confusion, but continued to tug forcefully, "I swear to God, Michael, if you don't take this hoodie off right now, the heat will not be the thing that kills you," he threatened.

Michael sighed in frustration, finally removing his hands to allow Ryan to pull the material from his body. He didn't understand why he felt so ashamed by it, or embarrassed, or something; shit Michael didn't know what he felt by it all.

 

Ryan paused once he'd dragged the hoodie off Michael, taking in the sight of the numerous hickeys littering his skin. They were spattered down the right side of his neck, dipping down beneath the collar of his t-shirt. Ryan could barely spot his own, faded marks beneath the litter of bruises someone else had left on Michael's skin. The older man suddenly understood very clearly why Michael had chosen to cover them as a wave of possessive jealousy washed through him and he felt his hands clench around the cotton fabric.

Michael felt the blush fall on his face, glancing down to observe his shoes that were suddenly ten times more interesting than anything going on. He felt sufficiently less over-heated now that the material had left, but he certainly didn't feel any more comfortable. He shuddered slightly under the gaze, hopeful that Ryan wouldn't notice his body's dumb reaction. He coughed lightly to fill the silence, eyes finally looking up to meet Ryan's.

Ryan's gaze was cold and hard as he looked down at Michael, sweatshirt hanging limply from his hands. He wasn't sure if he wanted to hit Michael, hit whoever had marked him, or bend the younger man over a table and fuck him raw. They all sounded like very good options that none of which he could pursue. Instead, he tossed Michael's hoodie back to him and began to walk towards his apartment.

"Wait! Ryan!" Michael called after him after catching the hoodie, before he could even understand what he was doing he was already jogging to catch up with the man. "Are you seriously being this dramatic over it? You're the one who wanted the fucking thing off. I tried to spare you, here." Okay, Michael, you can shut up now.

Ryan turned to face him, "I'm not being dramatic. I am simply trying to avoid acting on my emotions," he growled. It wouldn't take much for him to jump the other man at this point, in either sense of the word. Honestly, he had no right to be feeling to aggressive, but then again, since when had emotion been logical. Ryan gritted his teeth, desperate for some sense of control.

"You mean you're running from your emotions." Michael snarked back, squinting his eyes in frustration at the older man. He really should have just let the man go, talked to him after he cooled down or something; but Michael wasn't always the best at wise decisions.

"I am doing nothing of the sort. I'm fully aware of what I am feeling, but don't feel it's particularly logical to act on them," Ryan spat out. He was this god damn close to pinning Michael against a wall… and if the other man didn't stop bothering him that's exactly what he was going to do.

Michael sighed loudly, "Fine, thanks for being a dick about everything." He spat out, moving to walk backwards. He was still angry and he couldn't quite put his finger on why he was so upset. He really should just walk away, just leave and go and head to his house and sleep, wounds aside.

Ryan growled deep in his throat, reaching out to grab Michael's wrists roughly, "Do you really want me to act on my emotions, Michael? Because I will… Don't doubt I will." His face was inches away from the other man's and his grip was almost tight enough to bruise.

Michael blinked a few times, glancing down at the grip Ryan had on his wrists. Michael felt like he should be scared, terrified even, but all he could focus on was the man's lips. He furrowed his brow, licking his lips nervously. "Uhm?" He mumbled lamely.

Ryan let go suddenly, giving Michael a slight shove into a nearby alleyway. Once they were sequestered within it, his hands were back on Michael's wrists and there was an angry glint in his eyes.

Michael stumbled back into the alleyway, shivering slightly as he glanced up at Ryan's eyes. He'd be lying if he said he was intimidated by the man's stare, but he was more focused on the tight grip on his wrists.

Ryan pinned Michael against a the brick wall of the alley, one hand securing the other man's wrists above his head and the other reaching out to cup Michael's chin. "Now, I could tell you I'm jealous," Ryan said, voice slipping back into that same cool, calm tone it usually held, with just a hint of malice and anger bubbling beneath the surface, "But that wouldn't be quite true. No, I'm feeling… possessive."

Michael shivered at the feeling of the wall against his back and the feeling of his muscles stretching as Ryan pinned his wrists. He swallowed visibly at Ryan's words, hips moving slightly against the wall; it was a little uncomfortable but he was distracted by Ryan's entire persona.

"It's not a rational feeling, as you really aren't mine," Ryan mused, but there was an implied 'yet' to the words, "But then again, who ever said emotions were rational?" The older man nipped at Michael's jaw roughly, holding the skin between his teeth for a moment so that it pinched.

Michael could tell he was completely flushed now, both by the closeness and by the words Ryan was saying. His mouth opened in a silent gasp when Ryan's teeth nipped at his skin, his legs moving slightly.

"But as much as I'd like to fuck you in this back alleyway," Ryan whispered, teasing the shell of Michael's ear with his tongue, "I'm not going to. Because you'd obviously rather belong to someone else," his voice twisted angrily around the last words, a snarl forming on his lips.

Michael shuddered, cringing when Ryan finished his sentence. "Asshole, you're a fucking asshole." Michael growled, yanking at his wrists in frustration, and twisting his face away from Ryan's.

 

"What?" Ryan purred,"Don't tell me it's not true," he ran a finger up the side of Michael's neck, almost caressing the bruises there. He wanted to banish every single one of them, bite and tear them away until there was nothing left but unmarked flesh he was free to claim.

"You're a piece of shit." Michael hissed back, jerking his head away from Ryan as much as he could. He wiggled his body slightly, trying to get free. He felt angry and embarrassed and upset, all the feelings merging in together and leaving Michael feeling confused and jittery.

Ryan let go of the other man's wrists with a chuckle, stepping back. He felt in control again, and that's what mattered. Holding Michael against a wall, helpless, had momentarily relieved the itch in his fingertips, and that surprised him. He briefly wondered what it would be like to kill the man… Euphoric? Satisfying? Would he scream and struggle? Probably… but Ryan would hold him down and watch as the life drained from his body. The thought made shiver with pleasure.

Michael still leant against the wall but moved his wrists down to rub the now sore muscles. He held back the need to kick out at the man, angry at his approach to the entire situation. He could feel the rage running through his body, and something else that he couldn't quite put his finger on. He wanted to hate Ryan for it, run back to Geoff and bury himself in the man's arms; forget Ryan ever existed. But there was something in him that was making him just want Ryan to forgive him. Michael could still feel the guilt pooling in his stomach, the feeling was overwhelming and he was pretty sure his emotions were all over the place.

Ryan smirked unapologetically at the younger man, stuffing his hands in his pockets, "I never claimed to be a good person, Michael." He shrugged innocently, like a little child who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar but had eaten at least one of them before hand.

"Fuck off." Michael grunted back, eyes piercing with resentment. He resisted the urge to apologize, he didn't have to apologize for anything. He didn't owe Ryan anything. Or at least that's what he tried to think.

"Is that all you have to say? I'm honestly beginning to think you don't have any cogent thought in your head besides insults," Ryan chuckled. The other man was angry, without a doubt, but he could sense something else boiling beneath the surface.

"What do you want me to say exactly?" Michael retorted; he would've guessed the man would've left by now but here he was, standing clearly in front of Michael. He wished he would leave him alone, so that he could stop holding in his anger and let himself breakdown.

"We could talk about your feelings," Ryan sneered, removing his jacket from around his shoulders and tying the leather garment around his waist; it was beginning to get a bit too warm for his liking.

 

"Fuck you." Michael muttered again, moving to rub the back of his neck. He really didn't want to deal with Ryan's snarky remarks any longer. He wasn't thinking straight enough to think of a better response, and despite not being a cryer he felt like it wouldn't take much to cause it at this point.

"Hmm, I'd rather it be the other way around…" Ryan murmured, just about ready to leave the other man to his own devices and go home where he could consider the implications of this little conversation in peace. However, a few more jabs couldn't hurt, and Michael looked so deliciously vulnerable at the moment.

Michael kept his eyes piercing as he let himself slide down the wall, feeling vaguely nostalgic of the days he'd spent out here before he'd gotten picked up by gangs. He could tell his eyes were starting to water, not yet leaking over and he desperately made the move to bury his head in his arms that were resting on his knees. He didn't give Ryan the satisfaction of answering him, and though he was sure he looked pretty pathetic right now.

Ryan furrowed his brow at the tears forming in the corners of the younger man's eyes as he sat on the dirty cement floor of the alley. He hadn't pushed too hard, had he? It would be disappointing if Michael was that easy to break; he'd had far more planned for the unforeseeable future. Ryan crouched down, reaching out to firmly take hold of the man's head in one hand, tilting Michael's chin up to meet his eyes, "What's wrong?" His voice was gentler now, but still commanding and forceful.

"Nothing, my head hurts." Michael shrugged, jerking his head from Ryan's grasp; ignoring the painful crack his neck made when he did. It wasn't a total lie, his entire face was in pain from the earlier fight. He was lucky he wasn't crying yet, years of having to force back tears coming in handy; though he knew it was obvious he wasn't far from it.

Ryan sighed, debating his options. He could either leave Michael here to fend for himself, with a black eye in a rather shady part of town, escort the man to his apartment, which was blocks away, or bring him home where he would, undoubtedly, interrupt Ryan's peace and quiet. He scrubbed his face with one hand, considering,

Michael wrapped his arms tighter around his body, leaning his head to rest back against the wall as he furrowed his brows at Ryan. Why wasn't he gone yet? He blinked a few times, thankful that his need to cry was diminishing rapidly.

"Come on," Ryan sighed, pulling Michael up with one arm, "We're going to my apartment to get you an ice pack." He briefly wondered if the other man's bad mood had anything to do with their person who's lined his neck with bruises, gritting his teeth at the thought.

 

Michael stumbled to his feet, frowning at Ryan in confusion. "W-Okay, yeah.." Michael realized very quickly that he didn't actually know what Ryan's apartment looked like and wondered if it was as creepy as horror movies' made psychopaths homes out to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback is always welcomed and appreciated.


	8. Chapter 8

Ryan's apartment was only a block away: a first floor, one bedroom, one bath affair with an average rent and a window with a fire escape connected to it. The hotel was a nondescript beige building, the fluorescent sign out front proclaiming it "Open all night" still blinking slowly in the daylight. Ryan led Michael through the revolving door and past the front desk where an old, kindly looking woman slept soundly, emitting slight snores every moment or so.

Michael glanced around the normal esque place Ryan was staying at, it didn't match up to his expectations at all but it seemed to fit the man just the same. He peered back at Ryan, half-hearted smile lacing his face. "I would've expected something with a little more creep factor."

Ryan glanced around the apartment, noting its rather messy state with distaste. There were boxes full of books, knives, various cooking utensils, his set of paints and brushes, and even one containing a few sex toys somewhere in the mix. If hadn't been for the lived-in feel of the place, due to the stains on the rug and the novels, games, and dishes strewn about on the counters and coffee tables, it would have looked as if he'd just moved in. In reality, he had just been too preoccupied to unpack since he'd began renting the place about a year ago, and now the messy space just felt normal. 

"Hmm, wait 'til you see my torture chambers," Ryan murmured absently, picking an empty tea mug up from the end table by the door, moving to set it by the sink.

Michael let an easy laugh fall through him as he stood awkwardly by the door, eyes scanning across the various boxes. He brought a hand up to scratch at his chest absentmindedly, tossing his hoodie onto the end table next to the door and shifting around on his feet.

Ryan opened his freezer, feeling past a couple frozen microwave dinners and a package of raw steaks before his fingers lit upon the ice pack. He grabbed a dish towel from one of the drawers, wrapping it around the cold plastic and handing it to Michael, motioning him to take a seat on the couch, before noticing the shoebox sitting there. The shoebox that contained his most prized pictures… Shit.

Michael grabbed the ice pack, pressing it to his face and moving to head over to the couch, nearly tripping over a box as he made his way closer to the couch. He pressed the ice pack to his eye, obscuring his vision slightly as he moved to sit down; reaching to push the shoe box out of the way and frowning at the glimpse of pictures. "What're those?"

Ryan grimaced. Shit… this was like his last relationship all over again, except for the fact that Michael knew he murdered people for a living. The younger man just didn't realize how much he enjoyed it. "Nothing you'd want to see," Ryan stated, moving to take the box away and hide it under his bed once more.

Michael shrugged, taking his word for it and leaning back against the couch. "Alright." He murmured, relief flooding through him at the cold pressure he was applying to his eye. He took the moment to assess his other pains and aches, he felt like he had a stitch in his side and he was pretty sure he had a number of bruises across his stomach; he cringed at just how talented the earlier man's fists had been.

Ryan stuffed the shoebox back under his bed before moving back to the living room, plopping down next to Michael on the couch. He grabbed a novel from the coffee table, propping his feet there in its place. He flipped the pages idly; it was a psychological thriller, one he hadn't done more than a cursory read through of, snorting at all the inaccuracies.

Michael shifted slightly, hand moving to cradle against his stomach as he glanced at what Ryan was reading. He'd never been one to read too much, most of the time the stories were boring and Michael had a hard time imagining anything just by words alone.

Ryan scanned the pages quickly, scoffing when he got to the first murder scene, only a chapter or so in. "The human body contains 5 liters of blood, on average, and this woman has lost at least 3! She shouldn't be conscious, must less screaming," he tossed the book to the side, making a face. Why had he even bought that piece of trash in the first place? Right… because he had nothing better to do with his time.

Michael jumped at the man's voice, letting a smile fall on his face when he realized the type of book he'd been reading. "You really shouldn't purchase serial killer books, makes you a top suspect." Michael mused, removing the ice pack from his face to give himself a break.

"Well, it's either this or actually kill someone," Ryan muttered, getting up to turn on his Xbox. He typically preferred PC games, but sometimes he'd rather lay down on his couch than sit in his overly cushy office chair. After a moment's thought, he slid the Skyrim disk in and grabbed a controller, settling back down next to Michael.

Michael hummed lightly at his words, glancing over to the kitchen. "Can I grab some water?" He wasn't sure why he was asking permission, maybe it was the fact that he'd never been in Ryan's apartment; or maybe it was because it was Ryan. He wasn't sure.

Ryan shrugged, loading his saved game, "If you'd like. I wouldn't drink anything that comes out of the tap though, that shit is poisonous." He fiddled with the controls, attacking the bandits in the fortress he'd infiltrated with ease, slicing off a man's head with his dual blades and grinning.

Michael nodded, sliding off the couch and to his feet. He glanced around as he walked, noisily even peeking into a few boxes for no other reason than curiosity. He opened the fridge, searching through for a water bottle. He couldn't help the quiet squeak that fell from him when his side pinched slightly. He settled his eyes upon a few bottles then, grabbing it and pulling it out.

 

Ryan looked up at the sound, catching sight of Michael grabbing one of the unopened bottles of cheap liquor from the counter. He was about to protest, but thought better of it; it wasn't as if he was going to drink the stuff anytime soon.

Michael opened the bottle easily enough, grabbing out a glass from the cabinet and pouring the liquid inside. "Do you want some?" Michael asked, taking a sip of the liquor and enjoying the rush it sent through his body. It was gross, but it would be a good distraction from his aching   
body. 

Ryan shook his head, returning his focus to the game, "I'm not really a big drinker." Not that Michael knew that, given the amount of alcohol he'd consumed two nights ago.

"Could've fooled me." Michael muttered under his breath, eyeing the man's game as he leaned against the counter and sipped on the glass slowly. He tapped his foot lightly against the cabinet, eyes wandering across the apartment lazily.

Ryan couldn't help but think how odd the shifts he and the other man could go through in the span of an hour or so. They'd gone from having a casual breakfast, to Ryan saving Michael from being knifed in the stomach, to him pinning the younger man up against a wall and taunting him mercilessly, and now they were hanging out as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Then again, to Michael, it could be. Ryan didn't know much about the man's life besides the obvious.

Michael made his way back over then, setting the glass aside and plopping back down on the couch next to Ryan. He absentmindedly watched the screen, skyrim was nothing new to him; he himself had spent countless hours on the game. "So, uh. How's the bullet wound?" Michael asked casually, motioning to the man's shoulder where he'd been shot previously.

Ryan shrugged absentmindedly, he'd grown to almost enjoy the slight ache in his shoulder over the last few days. Pain was nothing new to him, and the pain pills he'd popped in the morning were enough to stave off anything too bad to deal with, "I've had worse."

Michael nodded, deciding not to bother Ryan anymore than he probably already was. He took the time to gnaw on his lip, tongue dragging across his already busted lip.

"What about you," Ryan asked, not taking his eyes away from the screen, "Anymore bruises I should know about?" He almost smirked at the double meaning, though he wasn't sure if he wanted to know. Michael's hickeys had already sent him into a rage once that day.

Michael wanted to admit to the stitch in his side, but took the better option of keeping quiet about it. "No, I think I'm alright." It was true too, he'd be fine in a few days of healing; though he'd doubted he'd rest that much. He rarely took care of any injuries he had, unless they were open wounds or severe broken bones he couldn't set himself. You had to have a high pain threshold if you were going to be in the crime business, and he'd long since stopped caring about any of it.

Ryan hummed absently, saving the game and shutting it down. He needed to put another layer of sealant on his newly repaired mask, and the old layer should be dry by now. He handed the controller to Michael, walking over to the locked cabinet wear he generally hid any evidence of his crimes, twisting the padlock until it clicked open, revealing a wide array of knives, a gun or two, and the gray skull Ryan was wont to wear.

Michael held the controller but found himself more interested in where Ryan was headed. His eyes widened at the objects inside, peering over the couch to get a better look. "Shit." Michael muttered, clearly impressed by the selection of knives.

Ryan smirked at the reaction; his knives were one of the few things he allowed himself to be proud of. He grabbed his mask from the cabinet, snagging a large paintbrush and the bottle of sealant he'd left on the counter yesterday afternoon. He gritted his teeth at the seam his sloppy patchwork had left, but it was better than walking around with a hole in the plastic.

Michael looked for a few more seconds before turning around to play the game, kicking his feet up on the couch and relaxing back on the plush softness. "So you fixed it, huh? Why not just buy a new one?" Michael asked curiously, making the character on screen run around randomly.

Ryan shrugged, dipping his brush into the clear, sticky liquid and dragging it over the seam, "Sentimental value. Plus, I was bored… not much to do when you run out of novels and video games get boring." Not to mention the fact that the itch in his fingertips wouldn't let him concentrate, on occasion.

Michael hummed at that, seemed like a good reason to him. He grew bored of the game quickly, setting down the remote and moving to stare up at the ceiling instead. He pressed a hesitant hand to his stomach, grinding on his teeth when the pain hit him. He took a few breaths before feeling along his ribs when he was sure Ryan was distracted, he didn't think any of them were broken; thankfully. He could handle bruised ribs, that was okay.

Ryan brushed a last coat of sealant over the mask, settling it back in the cabinet to dry and washing his paintbrush clean. He grabbed a butterfly knife from one of the shelves before clicking the padlock closed again. He collapsed on to the couch, idly flicking the knife through the air; the motions relaxed him.

Michael watched Ryan lazily, eyes following the knife. He tapped his foot lazily against the the arm of the couch, glancing back up at the ceiling and stretching his arms out in front of him.

Ryan eyed Michael neck, flicking his gaze over the bruised flesh with distaste. Now that he had calmed down, he was ready to broach the subject again, albeit cautiously. He had a pretty good guess as to who they were from: the same man that Ryan was certain had driven a kitchen knife through his mask and kicked it into the corner.

 

Michael felt Ryan's eyes on him, looking over to raise an eyebrow at the older man. He was clearly curious as to what he wanted, and obviously a little hesitant as well.

"So, who gave you the hickeys," Ryan didn't even try to beat around the bush; there was little point to it. He flicked the butterfly open and closed with a few, deft movements, feeling in control of the situation with a blade in his hand. The other man, however, must've found it intimidating, which Ryan had no qualms about.

Michael widened his eyes slightly, both at the blade and the abrupt way the man had addressed it. He shrugged matter of factly, not exactly wanting to throw Geoff under the bus on this one.

Ryan raised an eyebrow at him calmly, "You know I'm not going to let this go, right? I've grown rather… attached to you." His smirk made the words more mocking than they had any right to be, as if Michael wasn't worthy of being attached to.

"You've got a shitty way of showing attachment." Michael muttered, crossing his feet over each other and making a bored expression. "I don't have to tell you anything." Michael said, as if it was an after thought. Maybe he was just trying to prove it to himself.

"No, you don't /have/ to do anything. Technically, you don't have to breath. It is, however, rather conducive to living," Ryan shrugged, as if it were the most normal statement in the world. Not that he would hurt Michael, not yet. He had far too many games to play...

Michael's breath hitched in his throat at that, not able to mask the panic that fell over his face before he forced himself to calm down. He was defiant by nature, stubborn by nature; but there was something about Ryan that made him want to tell him everything. Still, he kept his face as bored as possible and shrugged nonchalantly.

Ryan left his butterfly knife closed, tossing it onto the table with the careless air of someone that could defend himself without its aid. He still preferred blades to his bare hands, however; they were cleaner… sharper, and spilt much more blood. "Fine, I suppose I'll have to find out for myself then…" Ryan mused. He almost enjoyed Michael's stubbornness. The man wasn't running away, so he was obviously willing. He'd just be…. a challenge. The older man smirked at the thought.

Michael furrowed his brow at the man, unsure of what he meant by that. He wasn't as scared as he probably should've been, filled instead with nervous curiosity. He moved to sit up straighter, tilting his head at the man; which probably came off more like a challenge instead of a silent question.

 

Ryan fished out his phone from the pocket of his jeans, quickly punching in Gavin's number, which he'd memorized by heart. The phone was picked up after the fourth ring, and Ryan settled back against the couch cushions, smirking, "Hey, Gav..."

Gavin's voice was slurred clearly as he answered. "Hi Ry!" There was a noise on the phone, Gavin having tripped off of the couch. Michael was shaking his head at Ryan, he still wasn't positive at what the man was planning, but he was quite aware that Gavin was still at Geoff's and he definitely didn't want either of them knowing where he was.

Ryan kicked his feet up onto the coffee table casually, "I was just wondering, was Michael at your place last night? He's not answering his phone. I’m beginning to get… concerned." The mock sincerity of the words, he knew, would be lost on the clearly inebriated man.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. He was here, he left just before lunch; back to his apartment or something." Gavin answered sloppily, giggling at something randomly. Michael glared at Ryan, sighing when he realized that Gavin would tell him exactly what he wanted to know.

"Mmm, thanks, Gav," Ryan hummed, "The two lovebirds made up, then?"

"Yeah, I think so. Geoff says he's not so sure though, Michael sort of ran out on him." Gavin murmured, unaware of the secrets he was telling.

"Hmm… interesting. Well, I've gotta go, Gav. Have a good day," Ryan hung up the phone with the press of a button, smirking at Michael. He raised an eyebrow, daring the man to challenge him again.

Michael stared back blankly at the man, he didn't know why he felt like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't. He hadn't done anything wrong, he shouldn't feel guilty about the fact that Ryan knew. The only thing he should've even remotely felt guilty about was not giving Geoff a straight up answer to the confusion that was their relationship. He /shouldn't/ feel like Ryan had a right to treat him this way, he didn't have a right.

"So, Michael, not to say that I didn't expect it, but I'm a tad disappointed…" Ryan leaned forward, his tone almost as if he was chastising and unruly child, "I like you, but your taste in partners is rather… abysmal," he made a face, as if the mere idea of Geoff made his flesh crawl.

"I was drunk." Michael defended himself, the words falling from his throat before he could stop them. He didn't have to defend the fact that he'd done things with Geoff, he'd been nothing but good to Michael; it made sense that he'd sleep with him. The only thing that didn't make sense was his weird infatuation with Ryan, the familiar anxious bubbling taking residence in his stomach annoying him. He could practically feel himself wanting to apologize.

 

"Mmm," Ryan hummed, "And this is why I rarely drink. One's judgement gets… impaired, and logic just goes out the window." He made an offhand motion with his fibers, waving away the thought.

Michael glanced down at his hands then, avoiding the man's gaze. He felt an apology itching at his throat but held it back, twirling his hands together instead. He didn't owe Ryan anything.

Ryan picked up the liquor bottle form where Michael had set it on the table then, holding it out to the other man, "Drink?"

Michael nodded, somewhat childishly as he took the drink; bringing it to his lips and chugging back some of the cheap liquor. He swallowed around it, his eyes pricking softly at the rough liquid before he set it back down on the table.

Ryan grinned, leaning back and putting his hands behind his head, simply observing the younger man. He look tousled and tired with his black eyes and bruises, freckles standing out starkly against his paler-than-normal skin. He looked… edible; yes, that was the right word. As if Ryan could devour him whole.

Michael relaxed visibly when the liquid settled, shivering at the taste for a moment before glancing over at Ryan. He opened his mouth to say something, probably an apology, but closed it after a moment; moving to take another sip of the liquid instead.

Ryan grabbed his butterfly knife from the tables, opening it with a practiced flip and beginning to trace it over the contours of his palm. He wondered what it would feel like cutting into Michael's cheekbones...

Michael tipped back the bottle again, savoring the taste this time that was overwhelmingly strong. He set it back down, rubbing the palms of his hands against his eyes, ignoring the pain of the bruised one. He hiccupped lightly, moving his hands to push the curls out of his face.

"So, feeling impaired yet?" Ryan asked, giving him a predatory smile.

Michael glanced up, blinking as his vision swam slightly. "A little." Michael mumbled, nodding slowly.

"Lovely," Ryan smirked, setting down the knife and taking Michael's face in his hands. He didn't kiss him, not yet. He wanted to see if the younger man would do it on his own.

Michael's eyes fell to Ryan's lips, hands reaching forward to grasp at Ryan's tank top as he blinked blearily. He leaned closer, their lips almost touching but not quite closing the distance.

 

That was good enough for him, Ryan decided, closing the space between them with a deep, slow kiss. It wasn't as passionate as the one they'd shared two nights before, but there was something there, bubbling under the surface and ready to burst through at any moment.

Michael could feel himself groan against the kiss, face heating up at the intimacy as he gripped Ryan's tank tightly between his fists. He kissed back, matching the man's speed and even pressing a little harder; urging him on.

Ryan didn't so much ask for entrance as force it, snaking his tongue roughly into the other man's mouth. He used one hand to tug roughly at Michael's hair, the other pressing down into the couch cushions. He wanted to reach for the butterfly knife, still open on the table, to litter the younger man's skin with lacerations, decorate him with oozing scars of ownership. Ryan wanted control… he wanted power, he wanted to make Michael a squirming mess beneath him, hanging somewhere between bliss and agony.

Michael let out a whimper when he grabbed at his hair roughly, shivering harshly at the feeling. Michael pressed his kisses back, tongue battling for dominance. It was a pride thing, really, to prove to himself that he wasn't as submissive as Ryan was making him out to be.

Ryan almost snickered when Michael tried to take control. Instead, he roughly pushed at the other man's shoulders, forcing him onto his back on the couch. Ryan was on top of him in a second, a hand grabbing Michael's wrists and pinning them able his head, kissing him harshly. His knees were on either side of the younger man's hips, effectively trapping him.

He let out a quiet noise of disagreement when Ryan shoved him back. Michael tugged at his wrists, frustrated that he couldn't touch the man in front of him anymore. He responded to the kiss defiantly, using his teeth to tug at Ryan's lips instead of properly kissing him back.

Ryan let Michael take ahold of his lip, enjoying the mixed sense of pleasure and pain. One hand snaked up under Michael's shirt and he pinched one of the younger man's nipples viciously, mouth continuing its ministrations.

Michael arched his back as much as he could given the position, mouth pulling away for a moment to gasp silently. He continued to tug on his wrists, while his mouth moved forward to meet Ryan's own lips. He felt like he had no control over the situation and it bothered him to the core.

Ryan pulled back from the kiss, admiring the writhing mess he'd created beneath him. A more visceral part of him was screaming to devour Michael whole right then and there, but he knew that this slow, blissful torture would be ultimately more worthwhile in the end.

 

Michael moved to kiss at Ryan's jaw, darting his tongue out to lick the skin there. It was a sort of painful position, with his arms still pinned above him; but he ignored it in favor of trying to gain back some form of control.

Ryan groaned darkly, rolling his hips down against the other man's. The hand not pinning Michael's wrists roamed over his skin, tweaking and pressing (hard enough to bruise, in some cases) in all the right places. He felt himself slowly losing control of the new itch under his skin, giving in to an animalistic part of himself he rarely called upon.

Michael let out an embarrassingly high pitched moan when the man's hips met his. Michael's own hips were nearly stuttering at all the touches Ryan was giving him, his head falling back to land on the plush couch. His fingers ached to touch the other man's body, hands clenching and unclenching as he paid attention to Ryan's touches. It was all new to him, unlike Geoff where he'd been able to do whatever he wanted; Ryan refused to even loosen his grip.

Ryan leaned in to suck and bite at the already bruised skin of Michael's neck. He might not be able to cover Geoff's brands, but he could at least match them. He rolled his hips down again, cock twitching in his jeans as Michael let out another lewd moan.

Michael tilted his head to let Ryan have further access to his neck. He lifted his hips up to meet Ryan's as best he could given the restraining position. "R-Ryan, shit." Michael murmured, tugging his wrists again. He was torn between wanting to ask the other man to let him touch, and his pride which was refusing to allow him to ask Ryan anything.

The words brought Ryan out of his stupor, and he sat back as much as he could while still pinning Michael's wrists. He schooled his voice into a cool tone, trying to mask his arousal, "Are you sorry?" he asked, smirking downwards at the other man's red face.

Michael whined when the man pulled away, hips wiggling in frustration. He let his eyes glare at Ryan's question, but knew the lust in his eyes was probably obvious. Michael knew sober him would've responded back with a quick "I don't have anything to be sorry for." but intoxicated Michael was not nearly as skilled and preferred to look at him with a blank face.

Ryan pressed down against Michael's wrists harder, letting the younger man know that he was completely in control. He reached under Michael's shirt to tweak a nipple, leaning forward to breath into his ear. "Are you sorry?" he whispered, nipping at the lobe gently.

Michael shivered at Ryan's warm breath in his ear, hips lifting up desperately as he started to nod. "Yes, yes. I'm sorry." Michael whimpered, shifting uncomfortably. He was really going to hate himself tomorrow. That feeling was becoming such a trend. 

 

"Good boy," Ryan purred, releasing Michael's wrists at last. He trailed his fingertips over Michael's neck, pressing them lightly against the hickeys he, and Geoff, had left, and put his lips back on the other man's.

Michael moaned at the words, resisting the urge to nod at them as well. He grabbed at Ryan fervently, pressing his hands against the man's stomach before sliding them across his chest. He kissed back harshly, their teeth tapping togetherly slightly.

Ryan let his eyes drift shut slightly, drinking in the touches. He bit at Michael's lip harshly, grabbing the corners of his shirt and tugging. He'd have Michael naked, underneath him on this couch if it was the last thing he did.

Michael winced slightly when Ryan bit at his lip, the slight taste of copper flooding through his mouth. He pulled away when Ryan tugged at his shirt, letting the other man pull it off of him. He slid his hands to the other man's back, his nails scratching lightly at his skin.

Ryan let his gaze roam across Michael's skin, growling when he noticed that the bruises extended all the way down to his collar bone. He bent down to leave more, sucking at the skin before trailing his lips down the younger man's chest, pausing to let his tongue flick over his nipple and bite harshly at his hip bone.

Michael arched his body up against Ryan's mouth, panting breaths leaving his throat at the man's torture. He moaned loudly when Ryan's tongue pressed hot against him, it trailing off into a slight cry when the pain of the bite hit. He wound his fingers in the man's hair, testing the waters by tugging and forcing him closer.

And just like that, Ryan was back at his ear, fingers tracing the contours of his neck, "I wouldn't do that, if I were you." He tugged at the Michael's curls roughly to emphasize his point.

Michael removed his hands from the man's hair then, moving to slide back down his back. Michael grit his teeth at the tugging on his hair, shivering as nails scraped against his scalp. He mentally cursed himself when he responded back a quick "sorry."

"Hmm, are you though?" Ryan furrowed his brow in mock worry, "I'm not sure you've proved it too me," this last was hissed into Michael's ear as the other man nibbled it teasingly.

Michael pouted his lips at the words, shuddering when Ryan bit at his ear. "I'm sorry, I am. What do you want me to do?" Alright, Michael, you're officially whipped; congratulations. Michael moved to kiss at Ryan's cheek, trailing his lips across the man's face as he moved he slid his hands down to the man's waist.

 

Ryan smirked at the victory, raising an eyebrow at Michael, "I can think of a few things," he purred, "But why don't you amuse me." He wondered if the younger man's mind was just as twisted as his own.

Michael took the opportunity to flip them over, moving to position himself practically on Ryan's lap; he was quick to question his own moral decisions as he did. Realization setting in for exactly what he was about to do, through his inebriated mind. This was fucked up, he was indeed fucked up as well. He felt his grin fall, already moving backwards to slide off the man's lap and backtrack the entire situation.

Ryan raised his eyebrows in confusion, but made no move to stop the other man. He may have been a killer, but he certainly wasn't a rapist; it was the one crime that Ryan had absolutely no tolerance for. "Something wrong?"

"Uhm." Michael murmured, moving to stand up and managing to trip slightly as he did. He ran a hand across his forehead, his mind was clouding annoyingly and he couldn't make sense of anything. He ultimately just felt really confused. "Uh..."

Ryan sat back, leveling him with a cold, cool stare. Patient, yet predatory. He was going to wait until Michael answered him, for once in his life. He tried to ignore the way his cock throbbed as he drunk in the messy, red-faced being before him, focusing only on staring the other man down.

Michael furrowed his brows, shuffling slightly from foot to foot. "I need a drink..." Michael mused, bringing the bottle to his lips and trying to chase away his doubts.

Ryan continued to stare at him passively, arms crossed over his chest, "Would you like me to drive you home?"

Michael shook his head, he knew Ryan didn't want to drive him home. Or maybe he did, maybe he'd ruined the moment and now he was just pissing the other man off. Michael knew he wanted this, wanted Ryan and whatever the man was willing to give him; but guilt was holding him back.

Ryan sighed, standing up from the couch and walking over to wrap Michael in his arms for a moment. "We don't have to do this, you know," he said, looking down at the other man, "I know I'm a controlling, psychopathic killer and that doesn't turn everyone on," he smiled wryly at Michael. "For all my… hostility, I wouldn't make you do something against your will." He hoped that this was what was bothering the auburn haired man, unwilling to bring up the matter of Geoff again.

Michael hugged the man back, grateful for the affection that was doing a good job at convincing him. He chuckled quietly at Ryan's words, sliding his palms hesitantly against the man's sides. He stood up straighter to kiss at the man's lips; almost sweetly.

 

Ryan smiled into Michael's lips, quick to be the one to deepen it. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the sweetness, but more that he'd been fantasizing about this since they had kissed the night before. He was careful not to be as rough this time though, allowing Michael some semblance of control, even if it was just an illusion. Ryan could easily overpower the younger man if need be.

Michael pressed his lips hotly against Ryan's, taking a step forward and using his hands to push the man backwards slightly. He enjoyed the rush of control, keeping his hands pressed to the man's chest. The guilt was still swarming around in his mind, but he fought it off in favor of actually enjoying himself. Act now, think later. 

Ryan chuckled, pulling Michael in closer and spinning them around so that the other man was the one with his back to the wall. He moved his hands lower, giving Michael's ass a tight squeeze before leaning in to nip at his neck.

Michael huffed when his back hit the wall, angrily accepting the fact that he wasn't strong enough to flip them back around at this point. He bit his lip to avoid moaning when Ryan's hand found his ass, not wanting to give the man the satisfaction. He tugged a hand up into Ryan's hair, yanking at the waves.

Ryan pushed his knee in between Michael's legs, relishing the harsh grip on his hair. "I'm not gonna lie, I'm not going to be gentle," he said casually, as if he wasn't trying to turn Michael into a squirming mess beneath him with every touch.

Michael tugged at the man's hair again, carding his nails across Ryan's scalp as his hips grinded down against the man's knee. He felt his back arch, desperate for the friction. "Don't...care." Michael murmured, shaking his head and opening his mouth in a breathy gasp.

Ryan rolled his hips forward, letting out a low groan and glaring predatorily at Michael as he felt their cocks grind together through the fabric. The younger man was wearing entirely too much clothing, he decided, reaching one hand down to fumble with the button of Michael's jeans as he continued to kiss him viciously.

Michael whimpered at the feeling of Ryan against him, he prodded his tongue against the other man's lips; moving to bite at them harshly. He slid his hands from Ryan's hair to his back, gripping at the edges of the shirt and moving to tug it from his body. If he was gonna be stripped, then Ryan would be too. It was only fair.

Once he had Michael jeans unbuttoned, Ryan stepped back. He wasn't panting, but his face was flushed and there was a sly grin playing across his lips. He lifted the corners of his tank top, pulling it over his head and tossing it carelessly to the side. The bullet wound in his shoulder, previously covered by one of the tank top's straps, was red and flushed, healing slowly due to the numerous times Ryan would reach up his hand to press on it, relishing the pain.

Michael took the opportunity once the man was undressed to move forward and slide his arms around Ryan's waist, distracting him for a moment by pressing a kiss to the wound. He turned them sharply, avoiding smirking as he pushed Ryan back to the wall. He didn't think it would last long, but for now he moved in to kiss and suck at Ryan's neck.

Ryan allowed it, for the moment, shivering in pleasure when Michael kissed the stitched flesh. He wound a hand through Michael's hair, pushing him slowly but insistently downwards to bite at Ryan's chest.

Michael complied, sliding down lower just under his collar bone and pressing the flesh between his teeth, pinching slightly. He slid his hands to hold unto Ryan's hips, thumbs digging into just above his hip bones harshly.

Ryan's head was thrown back, its crown pressed against the wall, and his eyes were shut tightly as if he were trying to block out every sensation that wasn't Michael touching his skin. Despite this, his fingers worked deftly, pushing down Michael's pants with one hand, the other tangling in his auburn curls to make sure he didn't pull away. Once Michael's jeans were shed to the floor, the hand snaked under the elastic of Michael's boxers to squeeze his ass tightly.

Michael continued his assault to the man's chest, tongue darting out to flick at his nipple before moving back up to nibble in the center of his chest. He very nearly growled at the annoying way that Ryan was still demanding control by not allowing him to pull away. He stepped out of his pants uncaringly, mentally cursing himself when he moaned.. He bit harder on Ryan's chest then, determined to gain back some sort of control.

Ryan looked down at Michael, eyes hooded, admiring the way the man looked from this angle. He was a power hungry control freak, and something about having Michael beneath him made his dick twitch. "Stop being a tease," it wasn't a desperate plea, but a command.

Michael smirked back, eyes locking with his and tilting his head. Michael was defiant, he knew that about himself. He didn't make any motion to move, instead flicking out his tongue to kiss the spot he'd just bitten.

Ryan smirked, pulling Michael roughly up by the shoulders and giving him a long, slow kiss, flicking his tongue out to explore the other man's mouth. Then, all of a sudden, he flipped their positions, pressing Michael against the wall and shoving a knee forcefully between his legs. His hands grabbed at the other man's hips, tight enough to bruise. He ground his leg up and against Michael's boxers in small slow movements, leaving rough bites across Michael's neck and shoulders.

Michael moaned against his lips, granting him complete and total access to his mouth. He flinched when his back hit the wall, a frustrated whine falling from him at the familiar position. He gasped loudly when Ryan's knee pressed against him, tangling his arms around the man's back for leverage. He whimpered slightly at the slow friction, head thrown back against the wall.

Ryan's hands slipped downwards, removing his knee and grasping the backs of Michael's thighs and lifting, prompting the whimpering man to wrap his legs around Ryan's waist.

Michael did, locking his ankles around the man's back easily and moaning at the close contact. He pulled away from the man's lips to take a breath, nails scraping lazily down the man's back.

Ryan moved his hands to support Michael's back, backing away from the wall and carrying the younger man towards the bedroom. It was as messy as the rest of the house, if not more so: there were clothes strewn lazily about and even a bloody knife on the bedside table, for some reason. The bed itself, however, was pristine, a cushy black comforter rolled down halfway to reveal sheets so white they looked like they should be in a detergent add.

Michael avoided the urge to yelp when he was held only by Ryan, distracting himself instead by pressing kisses to the man's neck repeatedly. He glanced up when they reached the bedroom, taking in the room before his eyes found the bed.

Ryan placed Michael gently on the bed, pressing a kiss to his lips before moving downwards, sucking at the man's hip. His knees bracketed Michael's legs, not quite trapping the man, but not giving him much room to move either.

Michael wiggled into the bed, enjoying the plush material before growing distracted by Ryan's lips. He brought his hands to the man's hair, winding his fingers through the softness. He gnawed on his lip at the sucking, trying to move his hips as much as possible given the position.

"Say please," Ryan smirked up at him, one hand playing with the elastic of Michael's tented boxers, ready to slip it inside and take the other man in hand. He licked his lips teasingly, eyes hooded.

Michael groaned at Ryan's words, glaring down at him and trying to wiggle his hips closer to Ryan's hand. He wanted it, but his pride wouldn't allow him to break and say it. He pouted his lips lightly, refusing to plead.

Instead of complying, Ryan only shimmied Michael's underwear over his hips, admiring the way the younger man's cock sprang free of it's confines to press against his stomach. He bit Michael's thigh, hard, pleased to see that there were no hickeys for him to cover here; it was new territory.

Michael whined loudly, head lolling to his left as he tried to swallow his pride and just ask. He struggled against Ryan's hold, hips wiggling forward. He cried out when Ryan bit at his thigh, struggling roughly against his grasp. He yanked harder on Ryan's hair. His cock twitched in anticipation as Michael mumbled an barely audible 'please'.

Ryan flicked out his tongue, licking the head of Michael's cock briefly, "What was that? I don't think I heard you…"

Michael wasn't sure if the noise he made was a whine or if it was a cry, he shut his eyes tightly. "P-please, Ryan." Michael stuttered out.

Ryan conceded, hollowing his cheeks and taking Michael into his mouth. He but his hands on the younger man's hips to stop them from bucking, teasing the underside of Michael's dick with his tongue, pulling back to flick it across the head and bobbing down again.

Michael arched his back, body tense from the pleasure as he slid a hand from Ryan's hair to grip onto the comforter instead. He moaned loudly at the feeling, glancing down at Ryan's lips stretched around him. "Ry.." He whimpered quietly, it was embarrassing how quick he was being pushed to the edge; thankful for his own willpower in holding back.

Ryan pulled off the other man's cock with a small pop, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. He stood, unbuttoning his jeans and letting them drop to the floor, followed by his boxers, all the while not taking his dark gaze off Michael.

Michael watched him strip, eyes scanning over his body eagerly. He wasn't sure if he was allowed to touch himself, but figured he'd never been one for following rules anyway so he lazily wound a hand down to grab himself, stroking languidly as he watched; shiver lacing through him under the scrutiny that was Ryan's gaze.

Ryan growled, batting the man's hand away, "Do I have to pin your wrists again?" He moved to the bedside table, opening a drawer and searching for a moment, pulling out a bottle of lube and a condom, tossing both items onto the bed. He resisted the urge to touch himself at the sight of Michael spread out on the bed before him, flushed and panting with Ryan's spit still coating his cock.

"N-no, sorry." Michael murmured back, biting his lip guiltily as he waited for the man to move back to him. He felt nervous under the man's gaze, shifting uncomfortably.

Ryan squeezed some lube onto his fingers, rubbing them together to warm up the slick substance. Meanwhile, he pulled Michael into an open mouthed kiss, reaching down to circle the man's entrance with a finger.

Michael kissed back harshly, thankful for the distraction. He willed himself to relax, pushing back against him. He moved to nip at Ryan's lips, sliding a tongue over the now split lip.

The mixture of pleasure and pain Michael was giving him made Ryan shudder as he pumped his finger in and out of Michael. He idly wondered if they'd do this again, if he could convince Michael to let him tie him up or trace a knife over the contours of his flesh. God, he hoped so.

Michael groaned against the man's lips, hips moving to grind up against him. "More, fuck..Ry." Michael practically whimpered, tugging his fingers into the man's hair and threading his fingers through the soft locks.

Ryan smiled; that's what he liked to hear. He slipped another finger next to the first, scissoring them slowly. He crooked the digits, stroking and searching for the bundle of nerves that would leave Michael writhing beneath him.

Michael shivered at the feeling, nails moving to scrape down Ryan's back harshly. "Ah, ah.." Michael moaned when Ryan found the right place, hips wiggling and pressing desperately against the man's fingers. "Sh-shit...fuck, ah." His body was constantly moving, little twitches and shudders running through him.

Ryan worked up to a third finger quickly now that Michael was too immersed in white-hot pleasure to mind the slight pain. It was also due in part to the fact that he was growing impatient, a slight moan escaping him as Michael shuddered and cursed. His own cock was achingly hard by now.

Michael continued letting out breathy murmurs, eyes closed tightly due to the intense pleasure. He let his hands move to Ryan's front, sliding and scratching as he moved to slide a hand to Ryan's cock. He was sure Ryan would have marks across his back, not that Michael thought he cared. He ran his fingertips teasingly over Ryan's dick before stroking. "Want you, Ry..." Michael whimpered.

Ryan's eyes rolled back in his head and he groaned at the sensation. He grabbed the foil packet from where he'd dropped it on the bed, tearing it open with his teeth and tossing it to Michael, who seemed so insistent on touching him. Not that Ryan minded, quite the opposite in fact. He felt almost relieved that the man's doubts had washed away enough for him to whisper dirty things into the older man's ear.

Michael leaned forward slightly so he could roll it onto Ryan's cock, skilled hands moving swiftly. He wasn't going to waste any time, that was for sure. He kissed at Ryan's ear, giving Ryan's dick a tug as he did. He mouthed at the skin just below the man's ear, "Please, Ry.." Michael was impatient and Ryan was taking far too long.

"Only since you said please," Ryan panted, lining himself up with Michael's entrance and pushing in slowly. Once he'd fully immersed himself in the tight, warm heat that was Michael, Ryan bit down the younger man's shoulder, hard. He pulled out almost completely, before slamming back in, setting a brutal pace. Now was not the time to tease or go slowly.

Michael slid a leg over Ryan's back, heel digging in as he wound his arms tighter around the man. "Ah, ah, fuck." Michael whined when Ryan bit down on his shoulder; the pain mixed easily with the pleasure and caused a shiver to run through him. He groaned hotly as Ryan set the pace, letting his head loll back unto the bed, sweaty curls falling on his forehead.

Ryan fucked the younger man brutally, hand tangling in his auburn locks and pulling roughly. He had no doubt that Michael wouldn't be able to walk straight for days to come, and the the thought made him smile. He wondered what Geoff would say when his baby Michael limped in, Ryan's bruises covering his skin.

Michael was torn between moaning and whimpering as Ryan's hips connected against him, his vision was starting to blur by the time Ryan's hand tangled in his hair. He yelped quietly when Ryan pulled, the pain coursing through him as his hips bucked; he moved a hand down his stomach to relieve some of the ache in his dick.

Ryan caught the movement, pinning the offending limb to the bed. He did take pity on the man, however, reaching down to stroke Michael in time with his own movements.

Michael struggled against the grip, before Ryan's hand found his cock and he stopped his struggling instantly. He groaned as his hips bucked, arousal washing through him and tugging him towards the edge. "F-fu, Ry.. ah."

Ryan swept his thumb over the head of Michael's dick, nipping at the shell of his ear, "Like that?" His voice was a rough purr, possessive and predatory as he thrust his hips forward again and again.

"Yes, ah, shit.. It feels so good." Michael murmured, hips bucking up to prove his point. "You feel so good." Michael hissed out, closing his eyes at his vision swam. He was getting close now, and he couldn't help feeling a little embarrassed about how worked up he actually was.

Ryan smirked at the complement, letting out a low moan. His rhythm was beginning to stutter slightly, but he didn't slow his thrusts. Instead, he bit and sucked at Michael's collarbone, trying to work up the man into a frenzy.

Michael tilted his head back, arching his body up against Ryan's. He was unraveling, hips desperate to meet the man's thrusts and pumps. His teeth barred, a hiss falling from his mouth. "Ah, fuck, Ryan!" Michael cried out as he came on both their stomachs, fists clenching and unclenching as the pleasure aftershocks ran through him.

Michael's cry sent Ryan over the edge as well, and the older man let out a lewd moan as he came. He almost collapsed onto Michael's chest, running a hand over the man's cheek and grinning at the variety of marks and bruises he'd left marring the other man's skin. He himself was better off, but not by much: his neck and chest were littered with less vicious hickeys and the scratches on his back stung pleasantly.

Michael sighed, eyes blinking up at Ryan's own. He could feel the fresh bruises and bites along his skin, they'd be reminding him of what they'd done for days to come. Ryan was heavy and he moved to push the man off of him, not necessarily away from him. He ran a hand through his own curls, wiping them from his face and letting his head roll to the left.

Ryan pulled himself off Michael, tying off the end of the condom and tossing it into the wastepaper basket near the door. He willed himself to move, getting up and walking to the bathroom to wet down a washcloth. He cleaned himself as best he could before moving back to the bedroom. He slipped in next to Michael, wiping the younger man down and pulling him close possessively.

Michael allowed himself to be pulled in, nuzzling his face into the other man's neck. He was tired and his body was stiff and sore, the stitch in his side was worse than it had been before but he ignored it in favor of cuddling closer to Ryan. He was thankful the man wasn't opposed to affection after, exhaustion making him positive that he wasn't sure he'd have been able to find his way home by himself.

Ryan let himself drift into a heavy sleep with a sigh. Dark dreams plagued his mind, memories welling up behind his eyelids. In them, Michael's face replaced that of his victims and he wasn't sure if he should smile or feel sickened as he cut into the man's many forms, one after another. The dreams were silent, like old black and white films restored in too-bright color but left without audio to preserve their original purpose; Michael's mouth opened in soundless scream after soundless scream. He died too many ways for Ryan to count, more ways than he'd actually killed people. His fantasies, those he'd acted upon and those he hadn't, played out before him. The man was tortured, strangled, choked on his own blood, drowned, mutilated until there was nothing recognizable left of him except his face, a sanguine smile carved onto his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! We'd love to hear from you.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING:
> 
> Okay, here's a heads up. 
> 
> Monty Oum is featured in the next few chapters(this one included).
> 
> Only because when we rp'd this nothing had happened yet, and we couldn't find the heart to take him out of the story because it all fit so well, and bringing in another person just didn't seem quite right. So we decided to just keep it.
> 
> If you do not feel up for reading it, that is absolutely okay. When the storyline for RWBY Gang is finished, I will write a summary at the end of it to get you caught up. 
> 
> <3

Michael's sleep was slightly restless, never really reaching the deep confines of sleep he ached for. He was able to get in a good few hours before lying there, waiting patiently for the light to creak in through the windows. To avoid being creepy, he only glanced over to the sleeping Ryan a few times. He seemed peaceful, at least. Michael supposed he could leave, go back to his house and collapse; perhaps grab some stuff off some dealer, something he'd be sure wouldn't put him in his right mind for at least a few hours. His head was throbbing, and his ass wasn't doing so well either. He could feel the guilt continuously pouring in his stomach, sobering up from the alcohol had left him guilt-ridden and embarrassed. Well, you're officially a slut. Congratulations, Michael thought bitterly. He ran a hand across his neck, rubbing at the stiff muscle and wincing at the bite marks.

His phone ringtone snapped him into reality. 

"Fuck." Michael slid off of the bed, holding back a whimper at the sudden pain. He huffed, throwing back a glare to Ryan's sleeping figure as he yanked his boxers up; moving to the living room to retrieve his phone from his pockets. He limped slightly, cringing at the steps. He grabbed his jeans, shoving his hand into his pocket and yanking out his cell phone. No caller ID, per usual.

"Hey." Michael greeted easily, though his voice was hoarse. He yanked the jeans up over his ass; not bothering to button them. He made his way to the kitchen, to grab a glass of water and some pills.

"Jesus, you sound horrible," Jack's voice blared into his ear a bit too loudly, "Are you sick? Christ, please don't be sick," she sounded a bit exhausted herself, stress coating her words.

Michael was about to fill the glass with tap when he recalled when Ryan had said that morning about the stuff being practically poison. "No, I'm fine." Michael opened the fridge and searched through for a bottle of water. "What's up?"

"I need you to come over to my place," Jack sighed. Footsteps echoed over the phone, and Jack pulled away with a muttered "One sec." Michael could hear her talking in the background, though her voice was somewhat muted: "Yeah, that's fine, babe. No, I'm just having dinner with an associate. Heh, no, not him. Michael- you haven't met him. No, it's fine. Seriously, you haven't seen Kara in weeks." 

Then she was back, "Sorry. There's some shit I need you to do and I can't tell you over the phone. Geoff's fucking drunk off his ass, so I get to organize everything."

"Alright, yeah. I'll be there in a few minutes." Michael muttered, feeling bad that Jack had to be the one to always fix things; he knew it had to be stressful. He pressed the end call button, sighing when he couldn't find any water. He slammed the fridge door shut, moving to open the cabinets and search for some pills. He breathed a sigh of relief when he stumbled upon the painkillers, eagerly downing four or so. He moved to search around the apartment for his shoes and his shirt.

Jack gave her girlfriend a chaste kiss goodbye before going back to staring moodily at her laptop. There were several windows open, but at the moment the woman was focused on a map of Los Santos, pixilated pins covering it's surface. Everywhere the RWBY gang had hit in the last few months. Shit… they were getting stronger and bolder by the day.

Michael successfully found his shirt, sliding it over his head before buttoning and zipping his pants. He thought about writing Ryan a note, but shrugged it off in favor of grabbing his shoes and slipping silently from the house. He ignored his hoodie, not wanting to bother with the hot weather again and it wasn't like Michael could hide it forever. He slid out of the building, groaning at the hot air. He could tell he was limping, but he masked it well enough along the walk to Jack's house. Thankfully, it wasn't far and Michael arrived there not five minutes later, tapping his knuckle against the door.

Jack opened it with a sigh, scrubbing her face with one hand. There were dark circles under her eyes and her usually pristine clothing was rumbled. There was even a stain on the corner of her blouse. "Hey, come on in," she said offhandedly, motioning him inside.

"You look like shit." Michael greeted, walking through the doors as casually as he could manage. He glanced down at the map, brow furrowed as he observed the notes.

"Yeah, thanks, asshole. I noticed," she glared at him, "What's wrong with your legs?"

"Nothing." Michael shrugged, trying to refrain from blushing. "So what's the big emergency?"

Jack rolled her eyes, collapsing into a chair and motioning to the map clearly displayed on her laptop screen, "This. The RWBY gang has hit two of our arms dealers, broken our top drug dealer's arm, stolen 10,000 dollars from the First Bank of Los Santos, and royally fucked you and Ryan over in the span of the last month."

"Shit, no kidding?" Michael mused, leaning over slightly to get a better glance at the map. "Well...fuck."

"Yeah, basically," Jack leaned back in the arm chair, rubbing her temples, "Would you mind getting me a beer and some painkillers? They're in the cabinet above the sink. Beer's in the fridge, help yourself."

"Sure." Michael nodded, moving to the kitchen and rubbing a hand across his neck. He furrowed his brows in pain as he did so, his stiff body stretching and catching painfully. He stood on his toes to grab the painkillers from the cabinet, pouring two unto the counter before leaning over into the fridge. He grabbed out a beer for Jack, not bothering to get one himself; he really didn't need any more this week. He walked back over, plopping himself on the couch and handing her the pills and and the beer.

The woman gave him a grateful smile, tossing the pills into her mouth, a swig of beer following them, "Thank Christ for prescriptions painkillers and the black market." She began to look a little less washed out, her eyes regaining their usual sparkle.

"No kidding." Michael mused, rubbing a hand across his bruised eye. He hadn't gotten a chance to look in the mirror, which he was regretting now. "So, what's our plan of attack on these assholes?"

Jack glanced at him, opening her mouth to respond, but stopped. "… Holy shit what happened to you?" She mentally chastised herself for being so out of it that she hadn't noticed the man's battered state. The skin around his right eye was dark and swelling, and almost the entirety of his neck, from just below his ear to the hem of his T-shirt, was covered in dark marks.

"Are those… hickeys or wounds?" she asked incredulously.

Michael sighed, taking a minute to come up with an answer. He thought briefly of lying to the woman, telling her he got into a fight and that's what all the wounds were. 

"I got punched. The others are hickeys." Michael admitted, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

Jack raised her eyebrows, impressed, and let out a low whistle. "Well, I guess you and Geoff made up then. Want some of my makeup or something? You need it a helluva lot more than I do. Plus, I can always borrow Caiti's," she added as an afterthought.

Michael cringed visibly, fully aware that most of them did not belong to Geoff. "Uh, yeah..." Michael nodded. "Thanks.." He wondered briefly if Ryan would be mad that he covered them, cursing himself afterwards. It didn't matter if Ryan was mad about it, it wasn't his body.

Jack stood up, walking to the bathroom to grab a bottle of concealer. She made a face, "Why're you so god damn pale, Michael? This isn't gonna blend very well…" She sat down next to him on the couch, smearing the makeup over his neck gently, "Anyways, back to RWBY."

Michael let her, only wincing slightly when she touched his neck. "Do we have a plan yet? What did Geoff say about the whole thing?"

"Geoff said, and I quote, 'It's too early for me to fuckin' deal with this. You handle it,'" Jack mimicked bitterly, "So I've been up since 6 am… dealing. I'd say strategic dismantle of their main crew and then negotiations when their Boss knows we're serious."

"Nice to know he's taking this seriously." Michael rolled his eyes, he was already frustrated at the obvious way the man was probably drinking himself into a coma. "Do we know who their main crew is? Names, background checks?"

Jack smiled at him, "Really, Michael? Who do you think you're talking to? Their boss is a man named Monty Oum. Mysterious motherfucker, very talented. He literally designs weapons and is trained in some martial art or another. I think he won an award… Also, he's said to be a great dancer," the woman rattled off the information like she knew it by heart; maybe she did.

"Great, because you know normal weapons aren't shitty enough." Michael sighed, bringing a hand to his face. "What about his immediate crew? Are they good?"

"Miles Luna and Kerry Shawcross. They're… decent. Almost completely unskilled when it comes to combat, but they're great planners- very devious. Luna especially; my sources tell me he's not afraid to send gang members on suicide missions if it means completing his objectives," Jack handed the container of concealer to Michael, blending the substance down his neck and just under the collar of his shirt. "Here's the real kicker, though: apparently they have a thing, the three of them. So if we can get Shawcross or Luna, we might be able to get Oum to negotiate with us."

Michael twirled the container of concealer in between his fingers. "So if we get both of them..." Michael mused.

Jack grinned, sitting back to observe her work, "Now you're getting it. And that's where you come in. While I could get Ray to go on this mission, he's got a stomach bug and this needs to be done ASAP. So you're probably going it solo, unless you can think of someone you'd want to partner up with."

"Nah, I'll go it alone." Michael nodded, it wouldn't be too difficult; hopefully. "What do I need to do?"

Jack grimaced, "Well, that's where it gets tricky. You're gonna have to do some surveillance, figure out their patterns and whatnot so that you can kidnap them undetected. Then we'll have to come up with a way to take them without hurting them; we want to show Monty that his… people or whatever are unharmed. Show of good faith."

Michael sighed, that sounded like a hell of a lot of work. "Alright, let me see their pictures." Michael slid a hand to his hair, brushing it off of his face and wishing he'd had time to shower.

Jack nodded, pulling up the image with a few clicks of her finger on the trackpad. It was a picture of three men standing side by side; the one in the middle, an asian man who looked like he'd been plucked straight out of an anime, had his arms around the other two. One of them was tallish and relatively scruffy with a large smile on his face while the other was short, rather round, and baby-faced. The tall man was leaning over to poke the shorter one, who was looking up at the man in the middle with a loving smile. "That's Luna on the left, Oum in the middle, and Shawcross is the one with the baby face," Jack informed him.

Michael studied the faces, willing them to fit into his memory so he could find them wherever they may be. "Looks like a dumb sitcom." Michael admitted, chuckling before standing up from the couch and nodding. "What car do you want me to take?"

Jack shrugged noncommittally, "Don't care. Just nothing too flashy, alright? The key word here it covert," she glared at him; Michael had a tendency to snag the sports cars whenever he could.

"Yeah, yeah." Michael smirked. "I'll drop by the garage and grab some random shit car Gav picked up." He would've just jacked a car, but he didn't really want to risk the cops this early in the day. He set the concealer on the table and began heading to the door. "Anything else I should know?”

Jack thought for a moment, brow furrowed in concentration, before she lit up, "Oh! Shit, I should have told you this earlier, but watch out for the bodyguards. There are at least four of them, real tough chicks with tricked out weapons Oum made. Don't get near them if you can help it… I've seen pictures of what they can do, and it's not pretty."

"Great, I'll stay away." Michael nodded, opening the door and walking out and shutting it behind him. It was only a short walk to the garage, he slid the button out that opened it before wandering inside and picking a key off of the rack. He smirked when he found the weapon case; eyes lighting up as he opened it, he grabbed out a submachine gun and two pistols; stumbling upon a few rounds of extra ammo.

Miles tapped his fingers on the polished wood of his desk absently, staring down at the documents in front of him. They looked just about the same as every other piece of paper he'd seen today, and at this point it was all starting to blur together. "Motherfucker…" he groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. 

"I prefer Kerry, thanks," came a voice from the doorway. Miles peeked through his fingers to find his boyfriend walking towards him, a fast food container tucked under one arm.  
"Please tell me that's for me…" he said, reaching out for the styrofoam.  
Kerry seemed to contemplate it for a moment, holding the box just out of Miles' grasp before conceding with a laugh, "Yeah, alright."

Michael used the key to unlock the car, sliding the machine gun and pistols under the passenger seat's mat. He closed the door before walking over to the driver's seat and sliding into the leather. It was a inconspicuous, average looking car; painted a dull white. He shut the door and turned the key in the ignition, driving out of the garage and pressing the lock button so that it shut behind him. Now, all he had to do was drive around for hours and try to find out exactly where these assholes were.

Miles opened the container, moaning at the burger inside, "I fucking love you, Kerry." He picked up the food and began stuffing it into his mouth at break neck speed, shreds of lettuce flying everywhere.

"Dude, slow down," his boyfriend laughed, but made no move to stop him. In the span of about three minutes, the burger had vanished, as well as the fries that had been in the container with it. "Okay, so now I get to break the good news to you," Kerry grinned.

Miles quirked an eyebrow, wiping his mouth with a sleeve, "Oh yeah? What's that?"

Michael let his eyes search around as he drove, following most of the road rules. It was boring, to say the least. Just out here waiting and searching, hoping that Jack might call him with some sort of details about exactly where they might be. He kept a hand on the wheel, the other resting on the divider as he eyed buildings and alleyways.

"The GameStop down the road just got a shipment of limited edition 3DS's," Kerry said, and Miles' eyes lit up.

"No, don't tell me."

"Free Pokemon X & Y with each one," Kerry would've looked smug if he wasn't grinning excitedly and bouncing up and down on his feet.

Miles got up from his chair abruptly, pushing away from the desk and grabbing his boyfriend by the arm, "Let's go; fuck paperwork."

He waved at Yang, the woman who'd been guarding the office door, before skipping down the hallway and taking the stairs two at a time, Kerry in tow. The younger man was laughing, hurrying along with him as they pushed through the inconspicuous office building's revolving door and out into the sunlight.

Michael took a turn to the left, eyes glaring along the sidewalk and very nearly shouting triumphantly when he realized his luck. His eyes recognized them immediately, babyface and scruff looked identical to the pictures. 

"Perfect." Michael murmured to himself, looking away as to not draw attention. He just had to tail them now without being noticed, which was definitely easier said than done. He pulled out his phone, mock dialing and putting the thing to his ear. He started mouthing at the air, speaking out nonsense words to the invisible conversation.

They stumbled along together, practically jogging the half a block to the store. Miles and convinced Monty to rent this particular office buildings for just this reason, and, looking at his boyfriend's smiling face, he didn't regret it one bit, despite the flaking dry wall and broken heater that was sure to be hell in the winter.

Michael furrowed his brow in concentration, wondering exactly where they were running too. He tried to remember what was down this way, maybe they had some sort of hide out or something? Michael brought his phone down, texting Jack a quick 'found them, scruff and baby face. alone. no sign of Oum, no sign of guards.'

His phone buzzed after a moment, 'holy shit really? do what u can, just be careful and don't let anyone see u.'   
Meanwhile, Miles and Kerry burst through the door of the GameStop, slightly out of breath and giggling. "Oh man… I bet we looked like fuckin' crazy people," Miles wheezed.

Michael rolled his eyes when they entered the game stop, parking slightly behind the building and stepping out of the car. He knew it would look odd if he was just sat in the vehicle. He pondered going in but switched his mind when he noticed the glass doors in the small building. He could see everything just fine. He pulled a cigarette and his lighter from his back pocket and lit the stick. Michael took a drag easily, sliding the lighter back into his pocket and leaning against his car.

Kerry continued to giggle, only stopping when the man behind the register gave them an odd glance. They bought their DS's, idly chatting about which game they were going to play first, the merits of buying a game case, and "Holy shit, how can you think Squirtle is a better starter than Charmander?" This last was said by an incredulous Miles, who looped a hand around Kerry's shoulders to give him a noogie as they exited the store.

Michael glanced at them as they left, taking another drag of the cigarette before directing his attention towards a girl in front of him. Honestly, he didn't do much scoping anymore; they hadn't really had the need to since a good portion of los santos worked for them. He smirked at their obliviousness, he was sure he would've spotted himself by now.

"Look, all I'm saying is," he wrinkled his nose as they passed by an auburn haired man whose cigarette smoke was blown their way by a slight breeze- the first one all day, "Is that you have to think about the big picture. Are you gonna stick with Charmander until he evolves into Charizard or are you gonna abandon him once you've got better pokemon. I just think that Squirtle is a better starter, even if Charizard is better than Blastoise."

Michael had to hold back his laughter at their topic choice, really; these assholes were running a gang? He found it hard to believe but kicked off the car once they got far enough, he trailed behind them lazily, ready to run into the stores if the men turned around for some reason. He thought about just grabbing them and throwing them in his car; it wouldn't be too difficult, if his first impression of them was anything to go off he couldn't imagine they would put up too much of a struggle. However, the fact that it was daylight held him back, he was positive someone would see. Perhaps he could just tell them to get in the car, no violence; just a threat.

"So… since we're already out of the office, you wanna-?" Kerry trailed off wiggling his eyebrows. 

Miles laughed, pulling the other man in for a chaste kiss when the car caught his eye. It was the same car the smoking man had been leaning against and he felt his blood run cold. /I'm probably just being paranoid/ he tried to convince himself, but he could shake the uneasy feeling that now clung to him.

"Hey, Kerry?" he said as casually as he could manage, but his voice still hitched, "I think we're being followed."

Michael pretended to be watching his phone, glancing up every where and trying to act as if he was only lost. He probably should realistically back off now; but his need for more information was egging him on to an almost dangerous level.

Kerry's eyes widened, and he took a small step closer to his boyfriend, "Fuck… Do you think we should call Monty?

Miles shook his head slowly, looking back to the man in the car who was looking at his phone. It was possible that he was lost but… "I'm not sure yet. Let's just… see if he follows us." He grabbed Kerry's hand, squeezing tightly, and they began to walk again, ducking into a tiny side street- more of an alley, really. Barely big enough to fit a car.

Michael squinted his eyes when they ducked into the alleyway. He was pretty sure they would know for definite that he was following them if he drove down it, but at the same time he'd have the ability to threaten them into the car. He considered calling Jack, but thought against it as he turned the car. The woman would advise him not to, he knew that. They'd been talking about pokemon, how dangerous could they be really?

Miles gulped audibly as the car rolled into the alley. He felt Kerry squeeze his hand tighter than ever and he looped an arm protectively around the younger man. "Call Monty," he mouthed, digging in his pocket. Nothing. He reached into the other one frantically, but with the same results. Shit… he'd left both his phone and his switchblade lying on his desk, and he knew Kerry didn't have the latter. His boyfriend was afraid of knives...

Michael acted fast, slamming forward on the gas to pull up beside them. He ducked to the right, grabbing out the sub-machine from the passengers floorboard before opening the door and pointing it easily at the two. 

"Hey boys. Don't move for a minute, sound good?" Michael asked calmly, stepping from the car and giving them an intimidating gaze.

Miles would have laughed at the high pitched shriek Kerry let out the sight of the gun if their lives hadn't been in danger. He himself was unable to stop from trembling slightly at the sight. He put one hand above his head slowly, the other still squeezing Kerry's palm in a way that he hoped was reassuring. His boyfriend, however, seemed to be frozen on the spot, phone hanging limply in his hand.

"Did you call anyone?" Michael demanded, keeping the gun on them as he reached forward to grab the thing from Kerry's hand. He slid the thing into his back pocket, before leaning forward and grabbing Miles; arm wrapping easily across his collar bones as he held the gun to his head. He used his eyebrows to motion to the car. "Shawcross is it? Get in the car, the back seat; don't try anything unless you want to be attending a funeral anytime soon."

Kerry's lip was trembling as he slowly got in the car. Miles was surprised he hadn't burst into tears yet; at least it wasn't a knife. He gave his boyfriend an encouraging smile and a nod before glaring at the auburn haired man. "Don't you fucking dare hurt Kerry," he growled, unresponsive to the man's first question.

"No one's getting hurt." Michael offered. Once he was sure Kerry was in the car he pushed Miles away slightly, keeping an eye on him and a gun toward him as he tugged a spare paracord tie from his pocket and moved forward to tie Miles' wrist together behind his back. He opened the back seat door again, content in knowing that Miles' wouldn't run and since he couldn't fight back anymore. He set his gun on the top of the car; grabbing at Kerry's wrists and adding paracord to them as well.

Miles and Kerry scooted together surreptitiously, hoping the man wouldn't notice. It wasn't as if they could manage to untie each other, anyways; they each just wanted the comfort of the other's shoulder pressed against their own. Miles almost wished Monty was here; the older man had a calm, reassuring presence that simply oozed off him at all times. It was one of the first things Miles had loved about the man, and the fact that Monty looked like he'd stepped right out of an anime didn't hurt either. But at the moment, he was Kerry and Miles' only hope of somehow getting out of this situation unscathed.

Michael slammed the door shut, already pulling his phone out to call Jack as he pulled open the driver door, grabbing the gun off the top of the car.He was hoping they hadn't called anyone, but if they had he needed to make it out of there and fast. He slid into the seat as he waited for the phone to dial, yanking his seatbelt on and already pulling out of the alleyway. He kept an eye on the rearview mirror, checking to make sure they weren't doing anything that could screw up his hard work. "Fuckin pick up your phone asshole.." Michael murmured holding the ringing thing to his ear and taking a turn to the right with his left hand.

 

"Hello?" Jack asked, voice echoing through the phone. She sounded considerably less tired than she had an hour before; the pain meds must have been working.

"I have the lovers, where do you want me to take them?" Michael muttered, he was driving a little on the fast side, but nothing compared to his usual speeds. He could feel the adrenaline kicking in his veins and he was enjoying the thrill immensely.

He could almost hear Jack raise her eyebrows, "Already? Fuck… I don't have anywhere to put them…" She gnawed her lip, thinking for a moment, "Bring them here for now, but… Shit. I don't think Caiti's going to be home until 10, but we're gonna have to move fast."

"Alright I'll be there in like ten minutes. Do you want to open the garage? Their hands are tied and I don't exactly feel like letting your neighbors know what you do." Michael mused, taking the roads to Jack's house.

"Yeah, alright. See you soon," Jack said, ending the call. In the back, Kerry was leaning his head on Miles' shoulder, trying desperately not to cry. The scruffy man kissed the top of his head reassuringly, though he himself wasn't much better off. God dammit, why had he left his switchblade at the office?

Michael rolled his eyes at the affection being shared, these guys were extremely lackluster.   
"So, did you call anyone?" Michael questioned, making sure to let his eyes pierce theirs in the rear view.

Miles narrowed his eyes at the other man, as close to a glare as he could get in his vulnerable state. "Yeah. Monty, you asshole," he spat out, though it wasn't true. Kerry hadn't even gotten as far as dialing the number when the man had pulled up next to them.

Michael tsked at that, pulling out Kerry's phone as he drove; opening up the recent contacts list. He noted that they hadn't called the man for at least three hours. He let that information drop though, he wasn't supposed to have too many conversations with these guys either way. He only had a few minute left till they arrived at Jack's. He slid the phone back into his pocket, before running a hand over his face.

"Hey, Miles?" Kerry whispered up at him, seeming to have regained some of his composure, "I think I dropped my DS in the alley…" The younger man looked stricken at the thought and Miles couldn't help but melt. Of course that would be what his boyfriend was worried about.

"Don't worry," he whispered back, "You can use mine. It's in my pocket." He just hoped Kerry wouldn't fuck up any of his new save data, even if he had only played the game for a few minutes.

 

Michael wanted to punch himself for being so stupid, he hadn't even thought to blindfold them from seeing where he was driving them. He parked the car before he leaned back to the men, yanking two strips off of Miles' shirt and moving to tie one around his head before doing the same to Kerry. Once that was done he began to drive the rest of the way. 

Michael sighed with relief when they finally reached Jack's apartment, he didn't have to deal with the two annoying fucks by himself any longer. He pulled into the garage and turned off the car, texting Jack quickly to let her know that he had arrived before taking his gun and opening the car door, walking to turn on the garage light and shut the garage door so that no one would see. He watched it lower, walking towards the back seat and opening the door, using his gun to motion for them to get out.

"Alright, come on assholes.”

Miles let out an indignant noise when his shirt was torn, but was otherwise silent for the rest of the ride. When the man's voice sounded in his ear, signaling they'd reached their destination, Miles let out a huff of annoyance, "Can we at least get these blindfolds off so we don't trip getting out of the car?" He had a feeling that he was going to do most of the talking during this little encounter, as Kerry seemed much too frightened to say anything.

Michael rolled his eyes but tore the blindfolds from their heads, tossing the torn fabric randomly back inside the car. He aided them out of the car, knowing it was difficult to succeed in anything when your hands were tied behind your back. He shut the door behind them before walking to peek his head inside Jack's apartment. His limp was still there slightly but he masked it well. "Hey." Michael greeted simply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the continued support<3


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter that'll mention/feature Monty heavily. Will still post another update on Sunday as usual. They'll be a concluding summary in the final notes of this chapter in case you didn't read the Monty stuff.
> 
> Thanks guys.

Jack nodded at him, gesturing for Michael to lead the two back into the bedroom. "It's the only place I could think of that Caiti wouldn't immediately notice them if she came home early," the woman explained, "Because we still haven't unpacked the goddamn guest bedroom." 

Miles and Kerry followed their two captors willingly; it wasn't if they had anywhere else to go. Kerry nudged Miles with an elbow as best he could with his hands tied behind his back, nodding at the auburn haired man with a wicked grin. Miles tried and failed to contain a snort when he too noticed the man's gait,

"You still haven't told her anything?" Michael mused, opening the bedroom door and leaning against the frame, he glared back at Miles when he heard a laugh; grabbing the man by the collar and shoving him roughly into the room. He raised his eyebrows at Kerry, toothy grin playing on his face as he glanced between the two. He moved forward to place a pinch to Kerry's cheek before shoving him into the room as well.

"Hell, no," Jack shook her head, moving to toss a lacy bra that was hanging on a bedpost into the laundry basket by the door, "Have you met her? Well, I guess you haven't, but that's not the point. She's a fucking angel." The woman grimaced sadly, grabbing Miles and securing him to the bedpost with a pair of, admittedly fuzzy, cuffs. The scruffy man was glaring at Michael as if he could burn a hole through the other man with just his eyes, gaze lingering on the red spot on Kerry's cheek. That was /his/ job.

"Well, since you've banned all of us from meeting her." Michael chuckled, eyeing the cuffs and raising an eyebrow at the woman, though he let his jokes aside as he glared back at Miles' evenly.

Jack leveled her gaze at him, "There's a reason for that. Also, don't give me that look, hickey boy. This is the only way I can keep handcuffs around the house without seeming suspicious."

"I'm not judging." Michael held his hands up in surrender, but the smirk on his face remained. He slid a hand to the back of his neck, observing the situation in front of them. "So, what now?"

Jack shrugged, motioning for Michael to pass her Kerry, who was shaking like a leaf without his boyfriend beside him, "Well, basically we film a video, send it to Oum, all that jazz. We don't hurt them," Kerry breathed an audible sigh of relief at that, but Miles just sat stonily, "Unless he doesn't agree to our demands. Then, I'm thinking we bring in Ryan."

Michael pushed Kerry over with two fingers on his shoulder, it was mocking in nature and he couldn't help throwing Miles' a snide glance. "Wouldn't he be more willing to agree if we hurt them first?" Michael questioned, raising an eyebrow.

 

Kerry whimpered nervously, stumbling towards the woman. Jack deftly spun him around and untied the cords around his wrists. She kept her hands on him at all times, making sure the baby-faced man was too terrified to think of running, and tied him to the other bedpost, leaving one of his hands free. She wasn't too worried about him trying anything. Miles, however, looked like he was about to hit something. Jack shrugged at Michael's question, "Yeah, probably. I just don't want to get blood on my carpet. If you wanna do it though, be my guest. I suppose I can tell Caiti I cut myself shaving- just don't go too hog wild, alright?"

"Alright." Michael nodded, stretching his arms out. He'd been in somewhat similar situations with Geoff, the man bringing him in to rough the guests up a little. Though, it'd been a while and he'd never gone much farther than a few punches. He rolled his neck before moving closer to Kerry, he wasn't sure why part of him wanted to see Miles' bad side; maybe curiosity.

Kerry quivered like a frightened rabbit, eyes wide with fear as he tracked Michael's every movement. Miles, in contrast, was fighting bodily against his bonds, "Don't you fucking touch him!" he shouted, baring his teeth at the man, "Don't you touch him; I swear to God I will end you."

Michael tilted his head to look at Miles', he wasn't intimidated by the man by a long shot and he'd long since masked the part of him that stung with pity for the afraid. His entire persona was calm and well trained, eyes staring down Miles' when he felt the rage flow through him. Honestly, there was no better medicine for his emotional stress than this. He drew back a fist quickly, slamming it into Kerry's gut. He supposed he should've gone for the face, it would've shown up better on camera. Either way, he left the man to search through Jack's drawers for some sort of knife.

Jack jerked her head towards the door, "Knives are in the kitchen." 

Kerry's eyes widened and he began sobbing quietly, speaking the first words he'd said since entering the house, "Please... Oh God, please don't." Miles felt his own eyes welling slightly. He could deal with sending strangers out on missions where he knew they'd be killed, but that was a quick death, absent of the virulent fear showing in Kerry's eyes.

"It's too early to be begging." Michael mused, he didn't particularly enjoy the sight of crying and much less pleading. He walked out of the room silently, making his way to the kitchen to grab the knives from the drawers.

"Fuck you..." Kerry muttered, wiping at the corners of his leaking eyes with his free hand. Miles strained forwards, trying to touch the other man before realizing that it wouldn't work. Instead, he swung one leg up onto the bed, placing it in Kerry's lap and stroking his leg with a shoe. He smiled and Kerry let out a watery laugh. "Everything's gonna be okay," Miles said, though he knew it was a damn lie. Jack looked at them pityingly, shaking her head.

 

Michael opened the drawer, sliding his hand in and grabbing out a knife. He made his way back to the bedroom, twirling the knife lightly as he did. "Alright, lets get this over with." He mumbled, moving closer to the men.

"Let's not," Miles spat viciously. He was ready to kick the man if need be, and it seemed like it would. Kerry's eyes zeroed in on the knife and he whimpered, backing away from it as much as his bonds would allow him.

"You know for someone in a gang, you're a little pathetic." Michael grumbled, he was starting to get a little frustrated with their whimpering and whining. It was almost like they'd never been around criminals, like they'd never been kidnapped before. It was interesting to Michael, he was being rather lenient and he'd only thrown one punch so far; they told them they weren't going to be harmed too much, they weren't going to die so why the childish attitude? He walked towards Miles calmly, choosing to cut him up a little first; maybe it would quiet him down a little and Michael wouldn't have to listen to him anymore.

"We don't do grunt work, asshole," Miles hissed, though he relaxed slightly now that Michael's attention had shifted to him. He didn't like the prospect of being carved up more than the next guy, but at least he wasn't utterly terrified like Kerry. Miles would go to great lengths to protect his boyfriend, and if that meant taking a few hits, so be it.

"Fuckin' pussy..." Michael rolled his eyes visibly, "So you're basically just Oum's file keepers, huh?" Michael was quick to yank Miles' closer by the hair, slicing the blade across the side of the man's face.

Miles hissed, wincing as the blade cut into his flesh. He heard Kerry utter a choked gasp from behind the auburn haired man, who was blocking his view.

"Call us what you will, but what are you? Some glorified fucking torturer, you sick freak?" He knew he should stay quiet, not antagonize the man, but he was angry now.

"If you think I'm bad, you should meet Ryan." Michael mused, sending a smirk back to Jack. He yanked the man's head to the right, pressing the blade against his temple and slicing a similar cut into the flesh there. His mouth was pulled back in a snarl, teeth baring as he felt a noticeable tingle in his fingers and as much as he hated it; he understood why Ryan would do it. He was reacting differently than he normally would, he'd have been done by now in most cases; just sliced their cheeks a few times over; silent until he was finished and walked out. He was enjoying it much more this time and it haunted him to the core.

Miles made a face at the sting, but didn't tear his gaze away from the other man. No, he was gonna fucking stick this out until the end. Kerry was sobbing quietly beyond his field of vision, "Stop… please, Jesus Christ, just fucking stop."

Michael squinted his face slightly, turning to look back at Kerry. "Please, shut up." Michael muttered, grabbing at Miles' chin and forcing his head back before slicing just under his jaw bone. He was careful to not go deep when he was so close to severe arteries and tendons. He released the man's chin then, watching the blood trickle down he avoided licking his lips as he took a few steps back and wiped the blood off of the knife onto his shirt.

"Don't get blood on my sheets," Jack said matter-of-factly from where she was leaning against the wall, observing the proceedings with an absent expression.

Miles, meanwhile, was decidedly less emotionless. "Necking already?" he hissed, trying to distract himself from the pain with a few harsh words, "I don't even know your name."

"Funny." Michael grunted bitterly, these fuckers were really starting to annoy him. He made his way over to Kerry, trying to avoid laughing at the man's panicked expression in direction to the knife. He slid closer, grabbing the man's face and pressing the blade against his cheek.

Kerry was hyperventilating now, struggling away from the blade in any way he could. A steady stream of pleas flowed from his lips, but they were unintelligible by now except for a few "Stop"s and "Please"s. Miles surreptitiously lifted his leg, ready to kick the man in the back, but he was afraid that if he did that, the knife would slip and he'd be left with an angry torturer and a dying boyfriend.

Michael grimaced at the pleading, why he wasn't necessarily affected most of the time the guy sounded like he was about to pass out and he didn't think that would do any of them good. He sighed, deciding to just get it over with and pressed the cold blade against his cheek. He tossed it to the side then, figuring he'd gotten the point across enough that they certainly weren't afraid to hurt Oum's boys. "There, not so bad is it?" Michael murmured, pressing a gentle slap to Kerry's face.

Kerry's blubbering slowed to a stop and he stared up at Michael with wide, childlike eyes. Then Miles pulled back his leg and slammed it forward into the auburn haired man's back with all might, catching the man just below his ribs. He felt positively boiling with rage; no one, and he meant NO ONE, was allowed to hurt his boyfriend. Jack, who'd been staring down at her phone, looked up at the sounds and let out a curse.

Michael stumbled away slightly, coughs wracking through him as he tried to regain his breath that had been torn from his throat. It took him a few seconds to fully regain composure, testing a hand around to see if the man had done any severe damage. It hurt like a bitch, but he could deal with that later. "You fucker." Michael ground out, swiftly walking over to Miles' and completely ready to clock the dickhead in the face.

 

"I told you," the scruffy man growled, "Don't fucking hurt Kerry. You don't deserve to touch a hair on his head, you psychopath." Miles' vision was blurring around the edges, due to blood loss or anger, he didn't know. Jack stood by the door, a worried look on her face as she chewed her lip, but didn't intervene; not yet.

"You wanna fucking go you little bitch? Let's go then." Michael hissed, reaching forward to undo the handcuffs and yank the man to his feet. He gave him a few seconds before throwing his fist at the man's face. Realistically; letting your hostage go was not a good idea, but Michael was fueled by the rage that had him shaking; he wasn't too worried either way, he had years of fist fighting experience on his side, and Jack if things got too bad.

Miles rubbed his wrists momentarily, ignoring his throbbing cheek, before throwing a punch at the other man's gut. Monty had taught him how to form a fist, along with a few basic tactics before Miles had gotten bored with the idea of fighting and kissed the other man senseless instead. Now, though, he was wishing he'd stuck with the training instead of letting his hormones overwhelm him.

Michael flinched for a second before grabbing the man by the collar of his shirt and sending a knee straight to his stomach. He was hoping the man would fall, but one could never be too sure.

Miles doubled over, almost emptying the contents of his stomach onto the floor. He collapsed to his knees, holding himself up with straight arms and retched slightly, pain blanketing his senses. Jack reached to to grab Michael before he could do anything that would cause the man permanent damage or stain her carpet. She was suddenly glad she was bigger than the auburn haired man.

Michael glared at the man crouched on the floor, struggling slightly against Jack's grip but settling down within a few moments; the rage washing clear of his mind. If it were anyone else but her he probably would've fought back more, but he trusted the woman more than most and he sighed; tearing from her arms but making no move to grab the scruffy kid on the ground.

"You calm?" Jack asked, raising an eyebrow, "Because we need to shoot that video now. And personally, I'd rather not be the one in front of the camera. But I will be if I have to." She pulled Miles up from the floor roughly, securing his hands behind his back with the plush handcuffs once more. She was about to tighten Kerry's bonds as well, but the man was curled up in on himself, sobbing quietly. Jack felt her lips twist into a grimace; poor kid.

"Yeah yeah, I'll do it." Michael muttered, rubbing his back as he continued to glare at the two. "Where am I driving them to after?"

"I texted Geoff and he, well Gavin because Geoff's too fucking drunk to answer his own phone, said to take them to the warehouse on…" Jack looked down at her phone, rattling off the address. She picked up a camera from her bedside table, grabbing a stand in the corner and adjusting the set up to face the bed.

"Alright." Michael muttered, raising an eyebrow at the set up before smirking over at Jack. "Damn, so where do you hide the videos?" Michael joked, running a hand through his hair and patting down the curls. He should've grabbed a beanie.

"Nowhere you would ever think to look," Jack muttered, her cheeks flushing. She was beginning to regret the whole "take-the-captives-into-her-bedroom" thing. "Just fucking go," she said, pressing record.

Michael adjusted his intimidating vibe, smirk falling into a glare as he glanced at the camera. "Mr Oum, I believe you will recognize these two lads. Don't worry, they won't be hurt too badly if you comply to our demands." Michael drawled out, glancing behind him for added effect. "We have some things to discuss, plans to be made. You will get in contact with us, Mr. Oum; or Luna and Shawcross might not make it another night." Michael took a few seconds to let Jack press the stop button. "Was that okay?" Michael questioned, running a hesitant hand through his hair and wishing Geoff was here to do this.

Jack nodded, "Should be fine. You looked convincing enough, and Luna is certainly beat up enough for the both of them. Shawcross is blubbering like a baby; perfect. I'm going to download this to my laptop, you take those two to the warehouse," she gave him an almost disapproving look, "And for the love of God, please don't just leave them tied up on the concrete. We aren't fucking monsters." Meanwhile, the two captives in question were both curled into themselves, nursing their wounds- both physical and psychological.

"Right." Michael nodded, watching her walk off he turned his attention to the two men. He wanted to laugh, they looked horrible. "Hey assholes, time to go." Michael moved forward to grab Kerry, yanking him into a standing position before grabbing Miles as well. He led them through the house easily, grabbing his gun once they reached the garage and opening the door; he walked to the car, forcing them inside the backseat.

While Miles was still bound by Jack's handcuffs, Kerry's arms hung loosely at his sides. When they were pushed into the car, the younger man simply snuggled into his battered boyfriend, hiding his face in the crook of Miles' neck. It would have been cuter if blood hadn't dripped onto his face, smearing there when Miles tried to wipe it off.

Michael sighed as he got into the car, rubbing his hands across his face tiredly for a few moments. He tied the blind folds across their face, blocking them from seeing where he'd be driving them before moving forward and putting the gear in reverse. He glanced at them in the rear view mirror, rolling his eyes at their attachment. He didn't want to admit that a part of him felt envious, well aware that he would never be that to anyone; nor would he ever be that naive again. Welcome to the gang life boys, he thought bitterly as he backed up out of the driveway. 

Michael had never had that innocence, from the time he was six it was survival of the fittest; he grew up in that. The drive to the warehouse was short enough, and Michael spent most of it pretending he didn't hear the sobs or soothing whispers that came from behind him. He parked near the entrance, stepping out of the car and taking a few breaths of the fresh air.

"Hey, asshole," Miles called tiredly, most of the anger having seeped out of him during the car ride. Now he just felt empty. "You gonna let us out of the car or what? Because I want to get some damn sleep here."

Just to be a dick Michael propped his foot against the door and leant back against it for a few moments, taking out his phone and messaging a 'feel better asshole.' to Ray before opening their door and taking their blindfolds off; he yanked them from the car shoving them towards the warehouse; sliding his gun into his back pocket and moving to open the warehouse door for them. He pushed them inside roughly, flicking on the light to the entrances' left.

Miles groaned aloud when he saw the room: small and cramped with concrete walls and floor. There was a disgusting looking mattress in the corner, a musty stack of clean sheets and a couple towels stacked next to it. There was water, bottled, but old enough that the paper labels were beginning to peel off them. The shelving unit containing the bottles also held several cans of food, all of them looking to be particularly unappetizing.

"Home sweet homes boys." Michael chuckled upon Miles' reaction. "Think of it like a summer camp... only, not." Michael unhooked Miles' wrists, raising his eyebrows as a warning to not try anything. "Do you need anything?"

Miles resisted the urge to whisper a joke about "bunking up with boys at sleep away camp" to Kerry, pushing the younger man softly towards the mattress. His boyfriend collapsed with a sigh, not even bothering to pull a sheet up to cover himself. "Some bandaids and mental health counseling might be nice," he quipped, glaring at their captor. He still didn't even know the man's name, much less who he was working for.

"Wow, you guys are sheltered if you think this requires counseling. I'll buy you guys some Hello Kitty bandaids when I leave." He mocked, Michael tossed a bottle of water to Miles. "Drink that." Michael muttered before moving to leave the warehouse. He shut the door behind him and sat outside, thankful it was well hidden from street view. He slid his head into his hands and closed his eyes before texting Jack a quick 'alright, they're here.'

Miles sank down next to Kerry, unscrewing the top of the water bottle and taking a long drink. He pulled a sheet over the two of them, cuddling in close to his boyfriend and giving him a kiss on the forehead. The space across from him was depressingly empty, no cool, sarcastic man to fill it as there usually was. Miles finally felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes, wishing Monty was there to run those lithe fingers through his hair and tell him that he was going to be alright, that he was over reacting. Instead, he was left with a small cockroach crawling over his hand as a consolation prize and an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. His eyes closed slowly, and Miles let exhaustion pull him into sleep.

 

Michael ran his his hands through his hair, trying to decide exactly where to go and what to do at this point. He thought about calling Gavin and making the man take over guarding the door, that way he could go home and take a nap or something. Instead however, he let himself lean back against the stairs and close his eyes; thankful that he was mostly surrounded by the shade and not the harsh rays of the sun.

Monty was hunched over his computer- the expensive one in his penthouse that he'd ripped the caps lock key off of- when he got the email. The notification chimed rhythmically, distracting him from the weapon design he'd been working on. He sighed, clicking on the mail icon and scanning through it. The unread message sat bolded in his inbox: a video with a subject line that only read 'With love, The Hunters'.

Michael let his eyes close and his head fall to the pavement, his knuckles were busted and his body swam with the aftershocks of the kidnapping; normally he would grab something to drink and make himself forget everything that had happened; today however he was content to just soak in all the feelings that distracted him from his guilt.

Monty watched in suppressed horror at the images playing out before him onscreen. Kerry had put his face in his hands almost as soon as he'd seen the camera, but Monty had caught the redness of it, along with the tears coursing down his cheeks. Miles didn't look any better, more angry and in pain than traumatized, but his face was bruised and sliced open in several places. When the video ended, Monty got out of his seat slowly, schooling his breathing and pressing down his emotions until he felt normal again.

Michael fell asleep rather quickly, though the concrete was uncomfortable his body was beyond exhausted; his mental state not much better. He brought his knees closer to his body, tightening in on himself and letting his mind swim with vivid dreams and thoughts.

Monty picked up the phone on his desk and dialed. After three rings, there was a soft, "Hello?"  
"Blake," Monty stated, his voice a calm monotone, "Please contact the leader of the Achievement Hunters and tell him that I'm willing to negotiate. Also, tell Yang I want her to find the man in the video I'm sending to her and kill him."

 

 

Michael woke up around thirty minutes later, due to his hand falling asleep from the awkward position. He rubbed his eyes before sitting up, glancing around hesitantly as the memories swam back full force. He stood up, rolling his shoulders out and letting a yawn out.

Inside the makeshift prison cell, Kerry couldn't sleep. He was exhausted, utterly defeated, and yet his brain wouldn't stop replaying the memories of the day in high definition. The knives… oh God, the sharp, pointy blade slicing Miles into a million pieces. He knew that even if he was able to drift off, he'd have nightmares. Instead, he just snuggled closer to his boyfriend, missing the reassuring presence of Monty behind him.

Michael chose to ditch the car in favor of heading to the small restaurant across the street, he slid through the alleyways easily, bumping into the crowd and heading the way to the restaurant. He could really use something to eat and he wasn't opposed to grabbing some alcohol as well.

Geoff groaned when the distinctive tone of his business phone ringing split his ear in two. He should have stopped drinking… hours ago? Days ago? He didn't know how long he'd been laying here, on his bed, in a drunken stupor. Was Gavin home? Maybe he'd pick it up… but as the phone continued its buzzing, Geoff decided that it was worth moving his sluggish arm over to the bedside table and accepting the call with a mumbled, "Hello?"

"The Hunters, is it? You have my men." Monty's voice was at a cool level, though he felt the need to pace around his office. He needed his boys' back, and he would get them back. He'd make sure of that.

"Uh… we do?" Geoff asked, slurring his words slightly. He tried to sit up, propping a pillow under his bed and rubbing his forehead. Christ, this was one hell of a migraine. Okay, hangover, but that made it sound like the pain permeating his temples was his fault.

"Yes, Kerry and Miles. You sent me a video?" Maybe Blake had given him the wrong number, but the man hadn't argued about being in the hunters. "The guy in the video, auburn haired, brown eyes told me to get them back I had to meet your demands."

Geoff blinked. Well. Jack worked faster than he thought. "Ah. Yeah, you guys have been muscling in on our territory," the drunken man was trying to sound intimidating, but the words left his lips weakly and slightly disfigured. He hoped the man on the other end of the phone could understand him.

Monty furrowed his brows as the man spoke. "Look, we're trying to make a business out here, same as you. What exactly consists of your territory? We'll steer away." Monty was still having a hard time understanding exactly what this guy wanted from him.

 

Geoff lifted himself off the bed and stumbled into his bathroom, grabbing painkillers and downing them while the other man talked. He splashed water on his face, beginning to feel a bit more awake as the liquid hit him, "Well, you see, that's not exactly the point. Some of your men- well, people, I should say- attacked two of my boys a few days ago. I generally don't take that lightly." It was true, but the fact that it had been Michael who'd been in danger made it doubly so.

"Ah, yes. That did happen, but if I remember correctly both of yours made it out. You see, we were afraid that you were taking over our drug trades, you can understand that." Monty despite his calm tone was beginning to get restless; he couldn't help feeling terrified for Miles' and Kerry; he'd been in the business long enough to know these guys would kill them in an instant.

"Doesn't matter if I understand it or not," Geoff's words were still slightly slurred, but he sounded much more certain of himself than before, "You still fucked with my boys. So I'm fucking with yours."

Monty tensed the grip he had on his phone, face growing stony as he gave himself a few seconds to respond. He knew he couldn't respond angrily, it would only further their need to harm the two. He needed to tip toe through this situation. "Mr.Ramsey, let's not turn this into an all out turf war. Tell me what I need to do to get my boys' back, alive and unharmed."

Geoff smiled: sweet, sweet victory, "Well, since we're being formal, Mr. Oum, I'm thinking $25,000, cash, and a promise to stay out of the general Los Santos area with your business. Oh, and one of those customized rifles of yours would definitely sweeten the pot. You do want to make sure you get them back in one piece, don't you?"

Monty winced visibly at the hefty load the man wanted, it could be arranged but it still took a lot out of them. He really wasn't itching to give them one of the customized weapons, but they had Kerry and Miles' and he wasn't going to risk that. "It can be arranged. Where will we be meeting, Ramsey?"

"I'll get back to you on that," Geoff said cooly. He held all the cards and Oum was powerless; why not tease the man a little bit?

Monty willed himself to stay quiet, resisting the urge to say "Do not test me." He pressed the end call instead, saving himself from saying something he would regret. They were going to make him wait, and it was cruel. Though, it did not shock him after what they did to Kerry and Miles', their entire team was cruel and impulsive.

Monty's phone rang with a distinctive tone, the one he'd programmed in to play whenever Yang was calling. She sounded chipper, as always, "What's up, boss?"

"Yang, I need you to go after someone for me." Monty let his hands travel over the keyboard of his laptop, quickly getting information on the man. "Michael Jones, as a matter of fact. We're not going to kill him, we're going to keep him as a hostage to see if they're more willing to make a more fair deal. Don't be gentle. I'll send you a picture of him."

"Sure thing," the woman quipped, "Does this need to be covert or anything? Because my gauntlets are still broken from last mission..."

"No, whatever is fine." Monty answered simply.

"Sweet," Yang grinned. She'd been dying to get her hands on one of Monty's newest creations for days, even though her gauntlets were her go to. Sometimes a girl just needed a giant gun to poke the right part of her power complex.

Monty sent back the information to her phone before leaning his elbows on his desk and rubbing at his temples.

Michael was currently sat at the bar of the restaurant aimlessly munching on some onion rings he'd bought while sipping from a beer. He was thankful for the time to relax, enjoying the air conditioner and multiple fans they had going.

It wasn't hard to figure out where he was. Monty's gang had eyes and ears all over the city, probably even more than the Hunters did. Observation, that's what he stressed, because if you knew everything, no one could ever get the drop on you. Yang left her new toy in the car regretfully, but it would just draw too much attention. The bar was a dusky, seedy place and it made her grimace, until she saw the auburn haired man sitting at the bar, then she was all smiles.

Michael waved at the bartender, telling her he was done and that he'd like a check. He watched the TV above him absently, he wasn't interested in sports but it was better than staring at nothing. He thanked her once she got it, handing her the money and pocketing the other receipt. He didn't bother with change, already making his way out of the dull bar.

Yang attached herself to the man like a leech, grinning flirtily at him, "Hey, I like your tattoos," she nodded down at the ink covering his forearms.

Michael rolled his eyes at her, brushing his way past her as he moved to walk down the street. "Fuck off." He hissed, sticking his hands into his pants and already ready to go to his apartment.

"Aw, come on," Yang jogged back up to him, walking backwards so that she could keep eye contact with him. Maybe flirting wasn't really her forte, but, well… boobs. She tried to subtly pull her top down, anything to get the man to walk over nearer to the car with her.

 

He couldn't help the laugh that flowed through him, shaking his head at her. Michael had never really come to terms with his sexuality, but he knew he definitely wasn't interested in her. "Sorry sweetheart." Michael mused easily, "Not my type."

The smile dropped from Yang's lips, "Well, shit." She stopped jogging backwards so abruptly that Michael almost ran into her. Then she pulled back her arms and gave him a solid punch in the face.

Michael stumbled slightly backwards, hand already moving to clutch his face. "What the fuck?!" He looked up at her incredulously.

Yang shrugged, "Monty Oum says hello." She ducked around him deftly, knocking her first against the back of his head. At this rate, she probably wouldn't get to use the new gun, but at least this guy wasn't putting up too much of a fight.

Michael growled, shock and pain swimming through him as his brain tried to realize what was happening. After a few seconds, he finally moved to slam a fist into her stomach, praying he'd make contact.

Yang skipped backwards expertly, laughing. She didn't spend years learning martial arts and practicing punches on anything soft enough that it wouldn't break her wrist just to get hit by some second rate gangster with a stick up his ass.

Michael was glaring at her, realizing who exactly she worked for and why she would be good at what she did. Well, he was in deep shit. He moved to reach into the back of his pants, desperately gripping for a gun that wasn't there.

"Oh, you've got a gun?" Yang raised her eyebrows. That might make this a little more of a challenge, "Bet mine's bigger," she grinned, backing towards her car.

Michael kept his stance but felt in his back pocket for his phone, he kept it behind his back and dialed Geoff's number which he'd long since memorized. He didn't make a motion to talk, keeping it so if the man picked up he'd know what was going on. Michael usually didn't run from fights but he found himself running towards the alley behind the restaurant and attempting to duck behind a trash can.

Yang yanked open the front door of her car, grabbing the customized weapon out of it. It looked vaguely like an assault rifle, but a bit bigger, and when she flicked a button on the side, a blade slid out of an opening beneath the tip, sort of like a retractable musket.. but a hell of a lot more dangerous. She followed Michael into the alley, whistling. 

Geoff groaned as his phone rang for the second time that day. When he saw the number lighting up onscreen, he felt his heart skip a beat, "Michael?"

 

Michael desperately wished he'd had a gun, or any sort of weapon at all for that matter as he waited for the woman to get closer. He wasn't sure if she would kill him or not, but either way he was searching desperately for an exit from the entire situation. He crouch-ran towards the exit on the other side of the building, if he could just make it to the road he could dodge between the cars and hopefully lose her.

Yang squinted along the sights of her gun, aiming carefully for the retreating man's legs. If she could just get one good shot in, it should be enough to disable him and end this… well, fight was barely even the right word.

Geoff's eyes widened when he heard the gunshot echo through the phone, "Michael? Shit, oh shit, Michael speak to me!"

Michael growled when the bullet cruised just above his ankle, the skin tearing brutally. He managed to slide his way past the wall of the building, blocking himself from any more shots but there was no way he'd be able to run. He yanked the phone to his mouth, eyes squinting at the pain of the bullet. "Hysterics aside, Geoff. Not sure I'm making it through this, Monty's got some real bitches working for him." Michael would've chuckled had it not been for his racing heart and the slight blood trickling along his ankle.

"What?" Geoff squawked. Oh no, oh shit… He should've known. No one would have agreed to his terms so easily, he just thought the guy was a pushover, oh God. Geoff shut his mouth, realizing that he'd been babbling. "Okay, just stay… stay calm, Michael. You either fucking run, get the hell out of there, or you surrender, you hear me? Don't worry about pride or whatever bullshit, you just… focus on staying alive." He bit his lip, squeezing his eyes shut as if that would make the entire situation go away. "I love you…" he breathed the words so softly he wasn't sure the younger man even heard them.

"Yeah, yeah, I will. Just wanted you to know, Geoffers." Michael clicked the end call button, truth be told he hadn't listened too much to what the man was saying; concentrating on the footsteps around him instead and the harsh sting of his foot. He breathed quietly, testing his ability to run by pressing his foot down to the ground to allow him to stand; no such luck and he had to grit his teeth to prevent a yelp of pain from escaping his throat.

Yang clicked the button on the side of her gun, smiling a the /snk/ sound of the blade emerging. She ducked around the wall, leveling her weapon at the man, "No where to run, no where to hide," she wiggled her eyebrows playfully.

Michael grimaced at her presence, meeting her eyes. He wanted to rip the smirk off of her face. He put a hand to his bleeding leg, ignoring the sting of the bullet. "Fine."

 

"'Fine' as in you'll come with me? Because I really don't want to put another bullet in you. Monty said 'Don't be gentle,' but I'm not a monster," Yang shrugged, the blade of her weapon not moving from it's position pointing at Michael's heart.

Michael grunted a sound of affirmation before putting his hand on the wall behind him and using it as leverage to stand up fully, though he was still hesitant to put any weight down on his foot. "I suppose this has something to do with the fact that I hurt scruff and babyface?"

Yang's eyebrows shot up, "You /hurt/ Kerry and Miles? Jeez, I thought you just kidnapped them. I don't envy your position, buddy," she shook her head, eyeing him piteously. She began the walk back to the car, prodding Michael in the back to get him moving.

Michael winced at every step he took, but made the effort to go faster never the less. He kept quiet then, though he could feel the annoyance and rage starting to run through him.

"Seriously," Yang went on, "I've barely seen Monty annoyed, and he's scary as fuck then. Man, do you think he'll cut off your ear? I heard from one of the others that he's done that before. Or was that someone else..."

"Damn, I hope so. I won't have to listen to your fucking annoying voice anymore then." Michael rolled his eyes, she was trying to get him scared and it wasn't working. Did she know who he ran around with?

"Jeez, aren't you a ray of sunshine," Yang muttered, opening the passenger door to her bright yellow sports car and shoving Michael in roughly. She grabbed a roll of duct tape from the glove compartment, wrapping some around the man's wrists and sticking another strip across his mouth. She undid the bandana tying back her hair, instead using it to blindfold Michael.

Michael made sure to glare at her entire time she was binding him fully; eyes unrelenting and cold. He was glad he had such a persona, one that literally made it appear as if he didn't give a shit what she did. He shifted against the seat once his vision was blocked off, he wasn't a big fan of his senses being cut off; especially not in this instance. His foot stung painfully and the duct tape was pulling at his hair. He let his head fall back against the seat; unable to do much of anything else. He briefly wondered what the others were doing, whether Geoff had called Jack yet; if anyone had told Ray or Gavin, or Ryan.

When they pulled into the parking garage next to the moderately sized, but surprisingly tall, hotel, Yang made sure to park in one of the relatively dark parts of the place. The RWBY gang owned most of the building, but that didn't mean no one was going to notice her leading a man into the elevator at gunpoint. Instead, she quickly disassembled the weapon and placed it carefully in the "violin case" Monty had designed to sneak it in and out. She took off Michael's blindfold and tore the tape off his mouth roughly. "Alright, let's go," Yang sighed, picking up the case and opening the door for Michael. If anyone asked about the tape on his hands, she'd make up an excuse. She didn't want to give the man staring bloody murder at her any more freedom than she had to.

"Fuck!" Michael hissed when she ripped the tape off, tilting his face and breathing out roughly. He was all glares and stony expressions as she put away her gun, and he severely wished his arms weren't bound so he could twist them across her neck. He was thankful he had the ability to be so intimidating, knowing very well just how frightening he could come across. Their whole gang could come across pretty fucking scary when they wanted, even Gavin who was pretty sweet looking would tear someone in two in an instance. He'd learned a few things about this gang, they were efficient as shit but they were severely sheltered in terms of maliciousness.

Yang grabbed Michael's bound wrists and pulled him from the vehicle, leading him towards the hotel doors from behind. They got a few strange looks from passers by, but Yang's bright smile combined with her captive's stony expression kept them from asking questions. She lead Michael into the elevator, putting down the violin case to dig her key out of her pocket, sticking it in the lock next to the button emblazoned with a "P".

Michael looked around the elevator, shifting slightly off of his injured leg and chewing aimlessly at the inside of his mouth. He glanced down at the violin case, briefly thinking about kicking it just to spite her. He chose against it though tilting his head at her. "So who're you taking me to?"

Yang snorted, "Who do you think?" Honestly, did he think some two-bit torturer lived in a penthouse? She felt her stomach lurch as the elevator rose, the digital number above the door blinking upwards until it reached 12 and the doors dinged open.

Michael shrugged his shoulders, he leaned against the wall during the ride, eager to get the pressure off of his leg; he kicked off once the doors opened, waiting for her to lead him through them.

Yang walked through the doors into the surprisingly not-so-lavish apartment. Everything was comfortable looking and relatively pleasing aesthetically, but it was almost Spartan in its simplicity. Besides a few game-related knick knacks and anime posters, there was very little in the way of unnecessary ornamentation.

Michael let his eyes trail over the apartment, naturally taking in most details as he tugged against his binds. He wasn't trying to escape them, but they were pinching his skin together and it was growing uncomfortable. "So, Halo huh?"

Yang shrugged, "Yeah, I guess. Most of this stuff belongs to Miles and Kerry," she trailed off, shooting the man an accusatory look, "Monty's probably in the bedroom."

 

"They were going for something at gamestop when I grabbed them." Michael mused, raising his eyebrows to see if he could get a rise out of the woman. He could feel himself growing anxious about Monty but ignored it in favor of looking along the shelves.

Yang shook her head, "Look, dude, I'm not mad at you, personally. It's the job; I know how it is. But what you did to Miles and Kerry…" she closed her eyes, "I saw the video. That's fucking sick."

"All in a days work." Michael mused, tilting his head at her. "You're just lucky I got to them and not our other guy. He's brutal." Monty chose then to stroll out of the bedroom, locking eyes with Michael and gazing him up and down. "Thank you, Yang." He nodded towards her, moving to grab out a chair and pushing it in front of Michael. "Sit."

"You want me to go or…?" Yang asked, pointing a thumb behind her. She didn't really want to leave Monty alone with the asshole, even though she knew the man could take 20 of him down in a matter of minutes. One generally forgot that, looking at the man. He was thin, almost frail (Kerry was always trying to get him to eat more, she thought with a pang) and generally dressed like one of the warrior characters his boys so adored in animes.

Michael took the seat easily, legs kicking out comfortably in front of him as he eyed the man above him coolly. Monty glanced back at her shaking his head. "No, I'd prefer it if you stayed actually. I figure his gang will call soon." Michael avoided the urge to laugh, it seemed like this man knew next to nothing about holding someone hostage. Of course, he probably didn't. Michael faked a trembling look and a pout. "Are you gonna hurt me, Mr.Oum?"

Yang snorted, "Oh yeah, real convincing there, Jones." Michael looked like a kicked puppy. Yang brushed her hair back from her face, wishing she'd brought her bandana with her instead of leaving it in the car. She sat down in an armchair, folding one leg over the other.

Michael broke out in a grin at that, laughter already falling from his chest only to be stopped by Monty's fist connecting harshly to his stomach. It was sharp and painful, and just as Michael was getting ready to stand up and get in the man's face; despite his hands being tied; Monty's foot was on his chest, pushing him back into the chair. Michael coughed, breath falling from his throat. "Fucker." Michael managed to hiss out.

Yang's eyebrows shot up. She'd only been half kidding about the whole 'seeing Monty angry' thing, but she hadn't expected him to actually do something so… violent. Then again, she'd never seen him without Miles and Kerry to ground him.

Monty cracked his neck, removing his foot and standing up straighter. "Michael, I recommend you not try to bring out the worst in me. I am in no mood to play such games, you're already on my bad side but I'm willing to understand the fact that those were simply demands you had to fulfill." Monty told him, sighing. Michael willed himself to stay quiet, to not give them any reason to do anything drastic. He was only supposed to stay alive, that was all. "Don't you wanna know what I did to them? The baby faced one, Shawcross? He's not too fond of knives is he?" Michael seethed out.

Yang closed her eyes. Everyone and their mother knew about Kerry's phobia; it was so severe that no one even dared joke about it. She was becoming the silent observer in this interrogation and it made her stomach turn.

Monty's reaction was quick and precise, reaching a fist forward to hit the man in the nose before punching a series of times into the man's ribs; hoping he would hear the sickening crack. He stopped after that, well aware that if he killed the man he'd never get his boys back. He watched as Michael sputtered forward, collapsing off the chair and unto his knees; he stared coldly as the blood fell from Michael's lips and nose. "I should've fucking killed them." Michael growled out, eyes lifting to meet Monty's cruely.

Yang rubbed her face with a hand, "Monty… that's probably enough," she mumbled. There was a big difference between cool weapons, first fights, and a body guard gig and… this. She wasn't a monster, she wasn't even that violent, but this whole situation was rapidly sucking away her happy-go-lucky attitude.

"I'll be in the office awaiting their call." Monty announced, already walking away. He was eager to get away from the situation and the man. Michael brought his taped hands to balance himself as he continued hacking; they were rough and harsh against him and every one felt like he wasn't going to be able to breathe again. He wanted to feel to see if his ribs were broken but his bandaged hands weren't going to be able to tell much.

"Are you an idiot?" Yang got up from her seat, talking animatedly, "You kidnap his freaking boyfriends and then you think it's a good idea to antagonize him? What made you think that was a good idea? What gives you the right to-" she stopped, shaking her head as if to clear it.

Michael coughed roughly again, holding back the next one so he wasn't caused anymore pain. He didn't want to listen to her anymore, he knew it wasn't a good idea and he also knew he was impulsive; he didn't have to have a reason to antagonize the man. "Shut up." He breathed out, "Just shut up."

"Jeez, sorry if I'm trying to help you, here! Damn, why do I even bother…" Yang was about to walk into the elevator in a rage, but the soft ring of Monty's phone interrupted her.

Monty was quick to jump up and grab the phone answering on the first dial. "Hello?" He asked, schooling his voice back into the calmness he was used to.

"What. The hell. Have you done?" Geoff's voice came through the speaker, low and angry. He'd called Jack the moment Michael had hung up on him, and the woman had convinced him not to call until he was less than hysterical. Now he was sitting in the living room of his apartment with her and Gavin. He hadn't had the heart to call and wake an ill Ray with the news. He'd find out sooner or later. (Geoff barely even considered telling Ryan.)

"Just the exact same thing that you've done. I'm gonna propose a new compromise, Hunters. Your boy for my two, no other attachments. Just a clean exchange." Monty couldn't help the smile that fell on his face, how the tables have turned.

"Oh, no. Oh HELL no…" Geoff was shaking his head furiously, "You fucking bastard…" He sighed, relenting, "One. You get one of them back, and I get to talk to Michael- live feed video, just so we're clear. No bullshit tricks."

Monty cringed, he didn't want just one he wanted them both. He made his way to the living room, motioning at Yang. "Set up a webcam, let them see Jones." He turned his attention back to his phone, he didn't trust them to just give him one; they'd kill the other on the spot. "I'm afraid I don't trust you enough for one of them Ramsey, I expect both."

Yang responded with a less-than-chipper, "Yes sir, Mr. Bossman," before hunting down the tech in question, securing cables to Monty's laptop.

Geoff, on the other end of the phone, scoffed, "What do you mean, don't trust me enough for one? It's a fair trade, one for one deal," and, Geoff thought, he'd still win. After all, Monty would still have to meet some of his demands to get both his boys back.

"You get Michael and we'll stay out of Los Santos." Monty really didn't want to bargain anymore; but he'd figure he'd give them that at least. It was like a complex game of poker. Michael was already cringing, the last thing he wanted was for the guys to see him like this; it wasn't exactly his best moment.

"… Fine," Geoff agreed, but he couldn't help but feel as if he'd given in too easily. These softies would never hurt Michael, not really, but his paranoia and protective instincts overwhelmed his logic, "Just let me see him."

"Glad we could come to an agreement." Monty chimed, motioning for Yang to start the webcam and hanging up the phone; knowing they'd get the sounds from the laptop. Michael was still coughing slightly, his breathing coming out more like ragged gasps than anything. He wished he could just pass out right now so he didn't have to face the others.

Yang set up the video feed, motioning for Monty to make the call; she didn't know what the Hunters' username was. "So… that was your boss?" she asked, turning to Michael, "He acts like you're his kid or something."

 

"It's complicated." Michael muttered, he would've told her to go fuck herself but that required hostility that he didn't have the effort for. Monty took a sip of the coffee he grabbed, typing in their username and making the call. Michael hadn't moved from his spot at all, and he wished they'd wipe his face or some shit; he knew it looked worse than it was. His nose wasn't even broken, just a little bloody.

Geoff inhaled a sharp breath when he saw Michael. Jesus… he looked half dead. There was more than a pang of fear in Geoff's chest; how could someone who'd been so definitively alive and happy a few days ago be reduced to- to /this/. Michael's right eye was black and swollen, blood caking his face and dripping from his nose. His neck… were those bruises? There were certainly more of them than Geoff had left. What had those bastards been doing to him? The question fell from his lips like a plea, "Christ… what's did you do? What all is even wrong with him…" 

It was the blond that answered Michael first, obviously having heard the audio feed from Oum's computer, "To be fair, he had most of those /before/ we got to him. I just grazed his leg and bloodied his nose a bit, though Monty helped when we got back here…"

Michael wanted to punch his body when he coughed pitifully, body betraying him further by causing him to double over. He didn't whimper and he didn't cry but he was well aware he didn't sound good. He forced his body to stop after a second or so, glancing up at the computer screen and murmuring a hoarse. "Hey guys." Gavin moved in front of Geoff to wave at the screen, getting obnoxiously close to it. "Hi Michael! You look like shit."

Geoff slapped Gavin in the arm, but couldn't help giggling a little bit, "Asshole," but then he was straight back to serious, "Does it hurt? I mean, obviously it fucking hurts, but is anything broken? Are you okay, what did they do?"

Gavin slid out of the way, moving to sit down next to Geoff and watch impatiently. "I'm fine." Michael muttered, fully aware that his captors were only a little ways away and he wasn't about to appear anything but tough in front of them. He was starting to think a few of his ribs may have been cracked, if not fully broken. Either way he was going to need bandaging once he got out of here and lots of it.

"Are you, though? You look like you're having trouble breathing." The tattooed man's gaze caught on the bruises covering Michael's neck again, and he was ashamed to admit that he was worried about exactly what they were from. "Can you take off his shirt?" he asked, directing the question at the blonde woman.  
She looked a bit surprised, but shrugged, looking over to Monty for approval.

"Geoff, I'm fine. My breathing is okay." Michael hissed out, though he knew he'd most likely be ignored. This was the last thing he wanted to do right now and he was definitely not ready for the embarrassment of the bite marks littering his chest. Monty made an uncaring gesture with his hand, it didn't matter to him if she did or not. Michael glared up at her, it was a quiet warning not to touch him.

Yang only shrugged, feeling a slight twinge of pleasure for getting back at the man. She went to grab a coil of rope from the small workshop in Monty's penthouse, grabbing a pair of scissors to cut the duct tape binding his hands. Michael's hands were only free for a moment, and Yang nudged his ankle wound with a toe, reminding him of just what she was capable of. She grabbed the edges of the man's shirt, lugging it over his head before using the rope to tie Michael up once more.

Michael was all growls as she removed his binds and his shirt. He would've fought more against her had it not been for the painful aches along his chest. The constricting material was nice to get off, but he didn't feel any better when his mutilated chest was clearly on view. Michael let his head fall back, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to pretend he wasn't where he was right now. He wondered vaguely if maybe they wouldn't show up as well on camera.

Geoff wasn't sure whether to be grateful for Monty's taste in high def cameras, or appalled by the markings on Michael's chest. A reddish, purpling bruise was spread across the man's lower rib cage in a way that made Geoff wince- those had to be at least cracked., if not broken outright. But what really caught the tattooed man's attention were the bite marks. Trailing down from Michael's neck, dotting his collar bones, a few on his chest, and there was even a large patch of abused flesh on the man's hip bones. Geoff felt his throat constrict with- anger? Disappointment? He didn't know. "Michael…" Geoff breathed out tensely. He wasn't sure how that sentence was going to end, but the thought drifted away as soon as his gaze flitted back over the trail of hickeys that disappeared under the line of the man's pants.

Michael briefly thought of slamming his head back unto the wooden floor, just to escape the guilt flooding through his body. He didn't take his eyes off the ceiling, even when Geoff said his name his face was stony and cold as he decided between actually throwing his head back in an attempt to pass out. He took a second to suck in a breath, concentrating on the pain of his lungs pressing up against his ribs. He winced when his vision swam, he tried to will himself to pass out from the pain alone. Gavin was silent beside Geoff, eyes raking over the man's body and grimacing.

"Who did that to you?" Geoff wasn't sure if he was asking about the ribs or the love bites, if the intense bruises could even be called that, but whichever Michael felt like answering…  
Meanwhile, Yang was casting Monty a scandalized look. Her mouth was hanging slightly open as she jerked her head towards their captive, and back towards the screen on which Michael's boss was making a nearly unreadable, but definitely negative, expression.

Monty responded back with a shrug and his usual calm expression. He just wanted to get his boys' back as soon as possible and this drama wasn't exactly speeding up the process. "I think Oum busted my ribs." Michael muttered, he was pretty sure that Geoff wasn't asking about the ribs, but he wasn't about to tell him in front of everyone else, nevertheless over a video call. He blinked a few times, glancing over at Geoff and wishing he hadn't; the man's face was clearly upset with him.

Cat Astrophe: Geoff scrubbed his face with his hands, "Dammit… you fuckers better patch him up damn good, or I swear to God you won't see those two assholes ever again." Geoff almost added "Alive, that is" but it just sounded too cliche, even in his head.

"We'll make the exchange near the parking garage on Innocence at eight. He'll be bandaged by then." Monty offered. Michael sighed at that, it was only an hour or so from now and he was itching to get away from the bitch and the guy who thought he was an anime.

Geoff nodded, cutting the feed and leaning back on the couch with a defeated sigh, "Motherfucker…" Jack patted him awkwardly, trying to be reassuring, but failing miserably. "Gavin, you go get the fucking- what even are they? Boyfriends? Lovers? Son of a bitch… just go get scruff and babyface. I don't give a shit what they look like, beat them up for all I care… just get them to the docks. I'll meet you there."

"I'm on it." Gavin nodded, grabbing his sunglasses from the table as he made his way to the door. He felt bad for Geoff, it wasn't easy seeing someone you love look like that. He slid from the door silently, already heading down the steps and towards his car.

Geoff stood up abruptly, pushing past Jack and grabbing a bottle of bourbon from the cabinet. He downed a few shots of what felt less like liquid courage and more like something to muffle his anger, before going to his room to change into something other than boxers and the t-shirt he'd been wearing for the last few days.

Jack watched him go with a worried look on her face, checking her watch regretfully, "I gotta go, Geoff. Caiti's gonna be home in half an hour and she'll be suspicious if I'm not there." She only received a grunt in response, which the woman took to be consent, walking out the door with a, "Good luck, Geoff. I'm sorry."

Gavin turned up the music as he got in the car, not wasting any time with road rules or the like he drove to the warehouse quickly.

Michael hissed out as he moved his back slightly, eyes squinting tightly as the pain in his ribs washed over; he really hoped they'd bandage him soon just to alleviate some of the pressure. He pulled against his binds, though he knew he wasn't going to be able to break them.

Yang glanced at Monty, unsure of what to do. "So, do you have like bandages or…" she trailed off. The older man's face still held it's usual, calm expression, even given the circumstances. Even given the fact that his boyfriends had been kidnapped and he'd been beating the man tied to the chair senseless less than half an you ago. The incongruity of it made her shiver.

"They're in the bathroom. I'll get them." Monty muttered, turning around and making his way to the bathroom to grab out the gauze. Michael's vision swam slightly as he moved his injured foot into a more comfortable position. He just wanted to get somewhere where he could get his wounds taken care of and simply relax and sleep. Honestly, as guilty as he felt for everything he'd done; he just wanted Geoff to hold him. It was weak and he cringed the moment he wished for it, he didn't need Geoff he needed his wounds to get taken care of and to sleep. He wasn't a child and he didn't need to be comforted. Monty handed the bandages to Yang and Michael was content to know the man didn't want to get near him.

Yang knelt, wrapping the gauze around Michael's injured ankle, steadying it. She grabbed two ice packs from the kitchen, handing one to Monty and pressing the other to their captive's bruised eye. She briefly considered painkillers before remembering just what this man had done to Kerry and Miles. They had probably been tossed in a room somewhere, broken and bloodied… She almost relished the wince Michael gave when she applied pressure to his eye.

Michael resisted the urge to kick out at her with his non-injured foot. He made sure to glare at her the entire time, but unwilling to make any more effort than was necessary

. Gavin parked the car in front of the warehouse, practically skipping in as he waved at the men who were huddled in the corner. "Hey boys, ready to go?"

Kerry seemed to have regained some semblance of control, but his face was still red and streaked with tears. Miles, however, looked much worse than he had a few hours ago, his breathing was labored as he slept and the cuts on his face were beginning to take on a discolored appearance. 

"Go where?" Kerry croaked out softly, trying not to wake his boyfriend.

"The gang boss guy? He's your boyfriend or something?" Gavin grinned; there was a reason he didn't deal with hostages often, he was a little too cheery to put off the mean vibe. "We're trading you for Michael." Gavin trailed over to them, wincing at Miles' obvious injuries; he was gentle enough as he tapped the man's cheek with his fingers.

Kerry's eyes lit up and he managed a watery smile, "Monty? We're seeing Monty?" 

Miles, however, was less optimistic. He opened his eyes slowly, glaring up at the man with the ridiculously poofy hair and idiotic accent, "The fuck is Michael?"

"Yes, you're seeing Monty you mong." He glanced down at Miles, offering a confused grin. "Do you mean who is Michael? Or where is Michael?"

 

"Who is Michael," Miles sat up, rubbing the bridge of his nose and immediately regretting it when his fingers pressed the bruise there. Kerry looped an arm around his boyfriend's shoulder, offering Gavin a tiny smile. He didn't seem so bad, not like the other guy… the thought of him made Kerry shiver.

"Oh, guess he never told you his name. He's the one that did that." Gavin offered, making a gesture to their cut faces. He made a gesture for them to get up, moving to grab some silk ropes from the counter. He held it out, waiting for one of them to move forward so that he could tie it around their wrists.

Kerry got up slowly, beginning to walk over to Gavin when Miles grabbed his shirt. The severely bruised man got up with a wince, moving in front of his boyfriend protectively, "How do we know you're telling the truth? Your /Michael/," he spat out the name like a curse, "Kind of put us off to trusting Hunters."

"Because, I'm not Michael. I'm Gavin. You don't know if I'm telling the truth, but I am." Gavin offered back with a simple shrug, extending his arms once more. He was being patient, and as understanding as he could be but if need be he would bind them by force.

Kerry gave Miles a placating kiss on the cheek before walking over to Gavin, offering his hands to the man. Miles hobbled after him, hissing each time his clothes rubbed against his tender flesh in the wrong way.

Gavin grinned at them good naturedly, binding Kerry's wrists tightly before moving to bind Miles'. He opened the door for them, letting them out first before making his way over to the car and unlocking it for them. He helped them into the car easily, before jumping in the drivers seat.

Miles was stonily silent, almost puffing out his chest to make himself seem as big as possible. Kerry, however, was almost grinning, happy enough to even begin a conversation with their captor. "You seem too nice to be in a gang," he ventured, "Not, like, you're not capable or anything. Just, the other guy- Michael or whoever- he was…" Kerry trailed off, not really wanting to complete the thought.

"Well, I have my days." Gavin answered cheekily, "Michael isn't so bad once you get to know him, he's just a little rough around the edges." Gavin knew just how intimidating the man could be and he almost felt bad for the men in the backseat, they really weren't cut out for this life. He drove uncaringly through the city, heading to the meeting place.

Geoff tapped his foot, waiting impatiently for 8 o'clock to roll around or for Gavin to arrive. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and a nice dress shirt, unwilling to appear too sloppy in front of his rivals. He had a gun tucked under the waistband of his pants, just in case. He knew the others wouldn't arrive unarmed.

 

Gavin peeled in, turning the car sharply in front of Geoff and waving at him happily from the front seat. He stood from the car, his own pistol tucked into the back of his pants. "Hi Geoff!"

Geoff smiled tiredly at the man. How did Gavin always have so much energy? "Hey, buddy. You got scruff and baby face?"

"Who and what, now?" Kerry asked Miles, a bit too loudly. The other man shrugged, shaking his head before wincing at the movement. The cut on his neck was killing him.

"Yep!" Gavin chimed, opening the door for the two. "They're right here." Gavin looked around for a few moments, keeping a scope out on the buildings. "They show yet?"

"No," Geoff grimaced. To be fair, he thought, looking at his watch, it was only 5 minutes to 8. Perhaps he was just a little bit desperate to get Michael back, but Oum had to be more so. Michael wasn't even his boyfriend, and the leader of the RWBY gang hadn't even seen his boys since Jack had emailed him that video.

Monty pushed Michael roughly into the car, getting him down to the bottom floor had been a trail in itself. He wasn't walking well, or breathing well; so the breaks were fluent. He slammed the door shut on him, barely missing Michael's foot. Monty looked up at Yang, motioning for her to get into the car. He wanted to get this over and done with as soon as possible.

Yang gulped. She didn't want to be a part of this. It wasn't that she was scared; she could probably take the entirety of Hunter's inner gang in a fist fight, but this… They were cruel. And Monty was becoming cruel to match them. She slid into the passenger's seat reluctantly, nodding at the man to drive and buckling her seat belt.

Michael winced as Monty drove, the turn sending him into the side of the car painfully; he was just ready to get away from them and as quickly as possible. Monty drove fast, calm exterior still clearly on his face though he was longing to see his boyfriends. He needed to see them, and they were already late.

Geoff bit his lip nervously, feeling himself grow angrier with each passing second. "Where the hell are they?" he snarled to no one in particular, "That's it! Gavin, drag those fucks out of the car." He didn't know what he was going to do, but it wasn't going to be pretty.

"Geoff, calm down. He'll be here, we've got his boyfriends too." Gavin reasoned, putting his hands up and towards Geoff a little ways. He didn't really want to see Geoff bloody up these guys anymore. Michael waited impatiently for them to reach the meeting spot, eager to get out of the car mainly because he felt like he was going to throw up.

 

"Too?" Kerry mouthed at Miles. How could anyone want to date that psycho? Then again, Geoff didn't seem like the most stable person. If Kerry focused hard enough, he could smell the alcohol coming off the man through the car's open window. 

Yang tensed as they approached the docks, preparing herself for an ambush.

Monty parked the car quickly, stepping out of the car and glaring at the men away at them. He opened the back seat door, prompting Michael to get out of the car. Michael barely managed a stumble as he did so; he knew better than to walk any further than Monty wanted him to and the mutter of stay from the man proved his point. 

Gavin glanced up at them, before jerking his attention to Geoff; he grabbed out Kerry and Miles as well; holding their shoulders so they couldn't run.

Geoff gave Michael a cursory once-over, worry filling his eyes, before he turned his attention to Monty. "Oum…" he addressed the man stonily.

Kerry smiled brightly at Monty, despite his appearance. He hadn't gotten to wash his face, and it was still tear-stained and caked in some of Miles' blood from when he'd been cuddling close the the other man. 

Miles attempted to do the same, but his lips barely even twitched. It wasn't that he wasn't happy to see his boyfriend, just that the enormity of the situation was a bit too much for him to overlook.

Monty felt his heart plummet when he saw his boys, though he kept his face stony and harsh as he looked towards Geoff. "Ramsey." He replied easily, "No tricks, we'll send each of them to the middle." Gavin quickly pushed Monty and Kerry forward, waiting for Yang to do the same thing.

Yang gave Michael a small shove, partly in revenge for Kerry and Miles' injured states, sending the man stumbling over to his boss. Geoff grabbed Michael by the shoulders, immediately losing interest in the other group now that he had what he came for. He cupped Michael's face in his hands, looking it over carefully.

Michael sighed visibly once his body fell into Geoff's, foot nearly caving out as he stumbled; he hissed harshly eyes meeting Geoff's. "Hey." He murmured weekly, glancing over to Gavin who smiled his way before turning his attention back to Geoff and raising his bound arms in a silent plea for the man to take them off

. Monty yanked Kerry and Miles' over gently, keeping a hand on each of their faces as he placed a gentle kiss to their foreheads. "We're done here, Ramsey." Monty called, supporting most of Miles' weight as he walked them back to the car.

 

Geoff nodded, not bothering to look up. He untied Michael's wrists, massaging the red flesh gently until it faded back to its normal, pale tone. "Are you okay?" he demanded, stroking a thumb over the other man's bruised cheek gently.

"Yeah." Michael breathed out hoarsely, he staggered slightly on his foot. "I-I may have a bullet in my leg." He hadn't wanted to tell the man in front of them, but now that it was a calmer setting he figured honesty was the way to go if he was ever gonna get it taken out.  
‘  
Geoff's eyes widened, "Why didn't you tell me before?! Jesus fucking-" He lifted Michael bodily, letting out a grunt at the man's weight, before settling him in his arms bridal style. "Gav, can you drive us back to the apartment?"

"Wasn't important." Michael murmured, locking his arms around Geoff's neck; and leaning his head on the man's shoulder. Gavin nodded quickly, already moving to jump into the car. "Sure thing, Geoff."

It was difficult getting the car door open with Michael in his arms, but Geoff managed, sliding in and settling the man on his lap with a muttered, "No way I'm risking you trying to put weight on that again." As an afterthought, though, he pushed Michael gently over onto the seat next to him, deciding that it was probably safer to have him buckled up.

Michael closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the seat. He was slightly aware that he still didn't have a shirt on, but couldn't be bothered to care about it right now. He winced as he breathed, winding an arm across his ribs tightly.

"Shit…" Geoff breathed softly, "I think you might need to go to the hospital, Michael. That's beginning to look nasty." It really was, a nasty purple and yellow blotch spreading angrily across his chest, more malicious even than the hickeys. He resisted asking about them again; Michael's safety was what was important right now, but later...

Michael shook his head, though his vision swam slightly as he did it; he leaned up to send a glare directed at Geoff. "No." Michael didn't like hospitals, at all; it was a silent rule to him that he'd rather die than be forced into one. "I'll be fine, I just need to lay down and sleep." Michael grumbled.

Geoff reached out, petting Michael's curls gently, "Okay, buddy. But if it gets too much worse, I'm going to get Caleb." The young man was an odd one, but he knew how to patch people up better than any gangster Geoff knew, despite his penchant for wearing skirts just about everywhere he went. He'd been surprised that Caleb hadn't been murdered in a back alley somewhere by a bunch of homophobes, but when he'd seen the man drive a knife into the leg of a guy harassing him at a bar, Geoff understood.

 

"That's fine." Michael mumbled, subconsciously leaning into Geoff's hand. Gavin glanced back at the two but otherwise remained silent as he drove to the apartment. Michael wished they'd get there sooner, the position he was in was starting to press his ribs uncomfortably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't Read The Arch: 
> 
> To summarize, Jack needs Michael to take Miles and Kerry (Monty's boyfriends) to get back at the RWBY gang for their earlier stunt on Ryan and Michael. Michael does, kidnaps the boys and roughs them up, sends a video to Monty who recieves the video. Calls Geoff to talk plans, then sends Yang to capture Michael in return for capturing Miles and Kerry. Yang does capture Michael, manages to put a bullet in his leg along the way. He gets brought to Monty, who roughs him up a little more when Michael's mouth gets him in trouble. They skype call Geoff to let him see Michael, and the man is naturally furious, but manages to get Monty to agree to leaving them alone in return for the boys. They meet up, exchange, and all is well, besides Michael's broken ribs and bullet in his foot.


	11. Chapter 11

When they arrived, Geoff gently picked Michael up again, carrying him to the elevator like a child. Luckily, there was no one around to question the man's battered state, and they got to the apartment without incident. Geoff carefully placed Michael down on the coach, clearing it of debris with one hand.

Michael curled up automatically on the couch, taking in the comfort and softness of the piece of furniture. Gavin closed the door behind them, hesitantly looking over at Michael. "He looks really bad Geoff." He mumbled quietly, hoping the man wouldn't hear him.

"Yeah," Geoff sighed back, motioning for Gavin to join him in the kitchen so that the injured man wouldn't hear them. "The hickeys weren't even me, Gav," he whispered, letting the worry he'd felt since he'd first saw Michael on screen bleed through into his voice, "I mean what did they- who…?"

Gavin stuck his hands in his pockets, furrowing his brow. "They're not? Oh.." Gavin made a confused face. "I don't know... they don't exactly look gentle."

Geoff shot Gavin a look. How could the younger man think /he/ was anything but gentle? Then again, it's not like Gavin had any experience, so it shouldn't have pissed Geoff off as much as it did. "I'm worried about him… I'm seriously about two seconds away from calling Caleb; I don't give a shit about his fear of anything medical."

"Well, I mean... maybe we should; just to get the bullet out of his leg and everything?" Gavin murmured quietly, unsure of how to deal with the tenseness of the situation.

Geoff nodded slowly, "You should probably do it, though…" His hands were shaking, from alcohol or fear he didn't know.

Gavin nodded, patting Geoff on the shoulder gently before walking down the hall to the bathroom to grab the first aid kid. He opened the compartment behind the mirror, reaching in and taking the first aid out. After only a few short seconds he was back with gloved hands and the tweezers and stitching. He slid gently into the spot at the end of Michael's feet, gently untying the shoe there and pulling it off. Michael hissed at the motion but otherwise made no complaint as Gavin set to work on taking the bullet out.

Geoff sat down on the floor next to the couch, eyeing Gavin's movements carefully from his position near Michael's head. He reached out, petting the man's hair absently, trying to reassure him.

Gavin slid Michael's jeans up carefully, rolling them so that they couldn't affect his careful movements. He grabbed a piece of fabric from inside the first aid and tied it just above the wound making a tourniquet. He glanced up at the man apologetically before wiping some cleaner around the injury and setting to work with the tweezers. Michael winced when it was tied around him, already gnawing on his lip as the pain built up when Gavin cleaned it. The moment the tweezers dug in he yelped, body jerking away as he slid his arms behind his head; roughly grabbing at the curls to try to distract himself.

Geoff bit his lip in distress at the obvious pain Michael was feeling, sliding up onto the couch and laying the man's head in his lap. He put his hands over Michael's own, gently stroking and trying to whisper a few encouraging words to the man, "Hey, it's gonna be alright..."

Gavin kept his eyes focused on the work of tugging out the split pieces of the bullet. He grimaced when he had to tear at a bit of the muscle just to get to a piece of it. Michael let his hands grip unto Geoff's, teeth gritted together as he tightened his hold on the man's hand. His eyes were watering due to the pain now and the tension of his body was causing his ribs to bump painfully against his chest.

"Are you almost done, Gav?" Geoff asked. He wanted this to be over with as soon as possible so the Michael could down some painkillers and go to sleep.

"Yeah, there's just one more piece." Gavin muttered, he almost sent Geoff a glare for rushing him but decided against it. He knew the man was under a lot of stress and seeing Michael like this was kicking up his protectiveness to an annoying level. He slid the tweezers in, pulling out the other piece gently. Michael winced as he did so, visibly relaxing once they were all taken out. Gavin glanced up at Geoff. "Should I stitch it back up or do you think it's okay?"

"No, I got it. If that's okay with Michael, that is" he looked down at the man clutching his hands desperately, "Just get him some painkillers, would you, Gav? They're in the medicine cabinet, little star on the label."

Michael nodded almost pitifully, tilting his head slightly to the left and closing his eyes sleepily a few times. "Yeah, of course." Gavin nodded; setting the supplies aside and taking off the latex gloves. He walked back to the medicine cabinet, searching around for the bottle.

Geoff eased himself out from under Michael, shifting to kneel on the ground my his legs. He grabbed a needle from the first aid kit, threading it and cleaning the tip with an alcohol wipe. He gently pressed the point through Michael's skin, biting his lip as the man winced.

Michael was quick to pick up one of the pillows and bite it; it didn't hurt nearly as much as getting the bullets taken out but nevertheless the threading sensation creeped him out. Still, he'd prefer this over the hospital any day. Gavin walked back in then, grabbing a bottle from the kitchen and making his way over to give Michael the medicine.

Geoff finished closing the wound, tying the thread and biting off the end rather than go through the effort of grabbing the sewing scissors from the kit. He grabbed another alcoholic wipe, sweeping it over the wound once more just to be safe. "How you feeling, Michael?" he asked, voice as soothing as possible.

Michael greedily downed the pills Gavin handed him, nodding his head in a thank you when the man handed him an open bottle of water. Michael took a swig, watching Geoff bite off the end of the string. "Fine." Michael grumbled easily, handing the bottle back to Gavin and laying back down completely. "How're you, Geoffers?"

"Stressed," the tattooed man replied, hoisting himself onto the coffee table and staring at Michael, "But, you know, that comes with the territory. Your men getting kidnapped, however, does not. At least, not ideally." It wasn't an admonition, just a statement of the extreme pressure Geoff had been put under.

"Really? Cause last time I checked you threw this over to Jack." Michael muttered, he wasn't trying to be rude about it but he could tell it came out that way and from Gavin's retreating figure it proved his point. Michael slid a hand to his hair and pushed the curls from his face.

Geoff raised his eyebrows,"I'm sorry, I didn't realize you wanted me dealing with this /drunk/. Next time I'll just start slurring insults into the phone, and we'll see how that ends," he spat out, "I told Jack to deal with it because she was the most /qualified/ to deal with it."

"Well maybe you shouldn't have been drunk." Michael rolled his eyes, sliding the pillow under his head and burrowing further into the plush sofa. "I'm just saying don't play the stress card when Jack showed ten times the leadership that you did today."

Geoff gritted his teeth, trying to quell the anger bubbling up inside him. He knew the younger man was right, but that didn't make it any better. Lately, he felt as if he was just the Hunters' figurehead, while Jack was the mastermind behind it all, pulling the strings. Instead of responding, he just reached out and took Michael's chin in his hands, forcing the other man to look at him and giving a strong shake of his head.

Michael could feel the guilt welling up in him, not only had he played with the man's emotions but now here he was being an asshole by insulting him too. Smooth Michael, real nice. He arched an eyebrow when Geoff grabbed his face, moving his hands up to grab at Geoff's wrists. "What?"

"Don't… okay? Just… fuckin' don't," Geoff's voice was laced with emotion- guilt, anger, mistrust, love. It was an odd combination, but his entire life had been one, big, odd combination thus far. He'd been raised in a middle class home, not on the streets, but his parents had dealt drugs on the side. He'd been the nerdy, geeky kid in school, as well as the punk with a grudge everyone wanted to stay away from. His first tattoo had been video game themed. This god damn gang had started as an attempt as a Machinima company. And now, he was fucking in love with a man he partly considered his son, and partly his subordinate.

 

Michael wanted to roll his eyes at the man but held it back due to his voice, he couldn't put his finger on what Geoff meant by it but shrugged it off. He was thankful that the painkillers were working, the aches in side not nearly as bad as they had been previously. "Okay." Michael agreed, though he wasn't sure what he was agreeing too, it just seemed much easier.

Reassuring by Michael's agreement, Geoff released his chin, letting his fingers idly play over the man's skin, gliding over his bruised eye and pausing at the hickeys littering his neck and collar. Once again, Geoff forced himself not to ask about them, just let his fingers stroke over Michael's flesh in a way that he hoped was at least somewhat calming. It was to him, at least.

Michael couldn't help nudge back into the embrace, it was relaxing and he was content to just sit there and enjoy the idle touches. "Geoff, I'm sorry." Michael murmured, quietly; it was an odd combination for him to say, especially to Geoff. He didn't apologize much about anything, he just sort of felt like he had a lot to be sorry for with Geoff.

Geoff closed his eyes tightly, a worried expression marring his face, but didn't stop his roaming fingers. "I- Thanks. I'm going to need more than that, but thanks. Right now, though, you should rest. I'm going to get you an ice pack for your ribs."

Michael nodded, leaning back fully against the sofa and tilting his face to the left. He was quick to close his eyes, taking in a shaky breath and letting it out. He briefly wondered if Ryan would ever call, cringing when the thought passed his mind. Ryan probably didn't care too much what he did anyway; he willed himself to not think at all about anything for a while.

It took Geoff a moment to find the icepack; it was buried behind several containers of ice-cream, a bag of frozen tater-tots, and several microwave dinners. He grabbed the peas in the freezer door as an afterthought, handing them to Michael so that he could press the frozen vegetables against his eye while Geoff wrapped the ice pack in a towel and applied it to the man's bruising ribs.

Michael laid the frozen vegetables across his eye, wincing when the cold pressure hit. His body jerked slightly at the icepack Geoff pressed to his ribs, but otherwise relaxed against the couch. He could feel himself falling into the realms of sleep, hand moving up to tangle in his own hair as he breathed slowly.

Geoff felt the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile at the sight, getting up to press a small kiss to the man's forehead. He sighed as the exhaustion of the day washed over him all at once, stumbling down the hall and into his bedroom, making sure to set his alarm before letting himself be pulled into the sweet abyss of sleep.

Michael could feel his feet running, guns shooting past them as he attempted to reach the door in front of him; his hands were bloody as he twisted the knob and he couldn't get a good enough grip, he felt the impact of a bullet; his breathing stopping short as he gasped. Michael woke with a jolt, fear evident in his eyes as he sat up abruptly. He wasn't surprised he'd had a nightmare, with all the adrenaline that'd been running through him yesterday; it was only natural. He relaxed back onto the couch, content to know that he was safe in Geoff's apartment.

Geoff groaned at his beeping alarm clock, rolling over to smack the button that would quiet the harsh noise. He peeled open an eye, blinking languidly at the glowing green digits that read 9:00. He willed himself to get up, shuffling into the bathroom and grabbing a bottle of pills for Michael, before walking into the living room with a tired sigh.

"Morning." Michael greeted, adding a grin for good measure as he took in the sight of the pills. It'd be nice, his ribs ached and his foot was throbbing painfully; feeling much like he got ran over by a truck.

"Mmrng," Geoff muttered, tossing the pills over to Michael blindly. He moved over to the kitchen, eyes half shut, grabbing a bowl and pouring some Cheerios into it, pulling out a handful to munch on before searching the fridge for milk. Instead, he found orange juice and the sight of it reminded him of his typical breakfast routine. He snatched both it and the milk carton out, quickly snagging the bottle of vodka from the counter and taking a mug from one of the cabinets in the vain hope that if no one could see his drink, they wouldn't guess what it was.

Michael uncapped the bottle, downing two of them easily as he recapped the bottle and sat it on the coffee table. He moved to sit up, eyes scanning towards his ribs and frowning at the look of the bruises. He let his hands trail across them, pressing gently to see if he could feel any cracks. At some point in the night he'd moved the ice packs off, not wanting to be stuck with frostbite.

Geoff poured himself a drink, sliding the bottle of vodka back across the counter and filling his bowl of Cheerios with milk. He snatched a spoon from the sink, rinsing it before digging in. He downed the mixed drink faster than the cereal, slightly desperate for a fix, but as the slight buzz began coursing through his system, he began to feel normal again.

"Sure, Geoff! I'd love some, gee thanks for offering." Michael mused sarcastically, watching Geoff eat at the cereal. He got the feeling that maybe Geoff was angry at him, he wouldn't have blamed the man of course; but it still left an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

Geoff blinked blearily at him for a second, "What? Oh… right. Food." He poured another bowl of cereal for Michael, shuffling over to the younger man and holding it out for him to take.

Michael smiled, greedily reaching forward to take the bowl and moving so he was sitting criss cross on the couch. He took the spoon and shoved the cereal into his mouth, sufficiently enjoying the feeling of having his hunger kicked. "Thanks." He mumbled around the food.

 

Geoff shrugged, flopping down next to him. He was still clothed in his dress shirt, now half unbuttoned, and jeans from the night before, but he honestly wished he had on a plush bathrobe instead. The thought of baths made him consider his own state; he probably smelled of alcohol from yesterday and looked like shit. Michael was worse, though, with his bruised, abused body and blood crusting his face.

Michael continued to chomp on the cereal, content to focus on the process of eating instead of the thoughts swarming through his mind. "So." Michael chuckled. "Yesterday was busy."

"Yesterday fucking sucked ass," Geoff mumbled, still not fully awake.

Michael finished the cereal, setting it on the coffee table in front of him and leaning back comfortably against the couch. He glanced at Geoff warily for a few seconds before focusing his attention on the ceiling.

Geoff mimicked him, staring up at the ceiling blankly, "How's your chest and stuff?" His question was interrupted midway through by a yawn and he desperately wanted nothing more than to curl up into Michael and go back to sleep.

"Better." Michael nodded, before tilting his head at him. "Tired?"

"Extremely. I actually set my fucking alarm to bring you your meds, asshole. Say thank you," Geoff murmured, not taking his eyes off the space above him.

"Thank you." Michael murmured quietly, he meant it to. Geoff was doing a lot for him, which was conveniently making him only feel more guilty.

"You're welcome," Geoff sighed, leaning into the other man's shoulder and letting his eyes drift shut. He wanted to curl himself around Michael, but he didn't dare bumping into one of his many bruises and causing him any more pain than he was already in.

Michael was a little taken aback by the man's head resting on his shoulder; but didn't dare bother him into moving. He slid a hand aimlessly across Geoff's thigh, it was a habit; but he realized quickly it could be taken a different way so he slid his hand back into his own lap, leaning to rest his head on top of the other man's instead.

"I was so fucking worried about you…" Geoff murmured, the words barely coherent through his sleep addled brain, "You were gone… and then you called me and you were getting shot at, and I didn't even know you were alive. I was scared as dicks, dude. Seeing you tied to that chair, all fucking beat up, didn't help any…"

 

Michael felt his heart sting painfully at the admission; looking down to stare at his hands uncomfortably. "I know Geoff... I know." Michael murmured quietly, shifting slightly. He couldn't help the guilt flowing through him, Geoff had done nothing but care for him and love him.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight for a fucking month," Geoff mumbled, giving Michael's shoulder a gentle, chaste kiss. He felt placated now, with the alcohol running through his system and Michael's warm body pressed against his. He could feel himself drifting off again...

Michael wanted to groan at the comment, great; Geoff watch. He'd been under that before, and he wasn't exactly looking forward to it again. He wanted to say no, tell Geoff that that was stupid and he couldn't watch him all the time; but the guilt settling in his stomach made everything difficult. "Uh..." He wasn't sure what he wanted to say.

"Ssh," Geoff reached up a hand, fumbling until one finger found Michael's lips, "Sleep time, okay?" And with that, he was snuggling more deeply into Michael's shoulders, breathing slowing to the steady rhythm that came with unconsciousness.

Michael sighed exasperatedly but laid his head back on the sofa and willed sleep to take him as well.

It was the sound of less-than-subtle footsteps that pulled Geoff out his dreams. His eyes fluttered open, catching Gavin in the act of trying unsuccessfully to tiptoe across the floor and into the kitchen. "Hey, Gav," he murmured, raising an eyebrow.

Michael shifted slightly, curling closer into Geoff subconsciously. Gavin grinned at Geoff, pulling a red bull from the fridge. "Hi Geoff."

"Dude, is that seriously your breakfast?" Geoff snorted, but his voice was quiet. He shifted carefully into a more comfortable position, careful not to wake the man snuggling into him.

"Yeah, what about it?" Gavin mused, popping the tab and taking a swig of the energy drink. He smirked, raising eyebrows at the cuddling men, but not daring to say something. Michael murmured quietly when Geoff moved, but otherwise continued his steady, slightly labored breathing.

Geoff shook his head with a chuckle, "Your stomach is gonna be killing you later…" He craned his neck around, trying and failing to catch a glimpse of the city skyline through the wall to ceiling window, "Fuck… What time is it?"

"Like almost three." Gavin answered simply, leaning against the counter and continuing to sip the drink

 

"Holy shit," Geoff giggled, trying to extract himself from under Michael without waking the man. He was still healing, after all. "No wonder I'm so fucking hungry..."

"I didn't want to wake you two." Gavin mumbled, chuckling at Geoff's attempt to get out of Michael's grasp.

"Mmm," Geoff muttered… His stomach was /growling/. "Do you wanna go out to lunch or something?" he asked, "Sleeping Beauty here probably isn't going to wake up for another few hours."

"That sounds top." Gavin nodded, grinning at the the older man. "Can we go to that burger joint?"

"We can go fucking wherever, as long as I get food," Geoff shrugged, buttoning up his dress shirt and sliding his feet into a pair of ratty flip flops.

Gavin tugged on a pair of sneakers, grinning over by the entrance of the door as he waited for the older man. "Been awhile since we've been on a lunch date, Geoffrey."

"Aw, stop. You're making me blush," Geoff grinned at the younger man cheekily, looping an arm around his shoulder. It was different with Gavin than it was with Michael, for some reason. The Brit was more his pseudo-son than anything, and Geoff enjoyed watching him grow and become more independent of him. With Michael, however, he felt protective and possessive, unwilling to let anything hurt the younger man.

Gavin laughed as they walked out of the apartment, arm wrapping around Geoff's shoulder. "So, how is everything?

"Everything is… okay," Geoff sighed, "I just have to keep focusing on the fucking positives, man. He's alive and he's resting…"

"He'll be fine, Geoff. He's been through worse shit before." Gavin muttered, giving Geoff's back a playful pat. Gavin was desperately trying to figure out a way to tell Geoff that he thought he might know who gave Michael the hickeys, his secret keeping falling short per usual; but he kept quiet, deciding he didn't really want to get Geoff riled up, or drinking this soon.

Geoff nodded, pressing the button in the elevator that would take them to the ground floor and leaning back against the wall as the doors dinged shut, "What about you? He's your boi, after all."

Gavin leaned against the frame of the elevator, tapping his fingers along the sides of it. "I think he's fine." Gavin nodded, "I mean, he seems okay so I'm not too worried." He felt betrayed by his own words, did he think Michael was okay? He wasn't so sure.

"Seems okay? He's got at least one cracked rib, dude…" Geoff gestured for Gavin to walk ahead of him as the elevator doors dinged open, "Fuck. I don't know, maybe you're right and I'm just being overprotective.”

"Yeah, but it isn't the first time he's had one." Gavin shrugged as he walked ahead, turning to glance back at the man. "He's been in the crime shit his entire life, there isn't time to be overprotective."

Geoff shrugged; he knew Gav was right, but it didn't really make this any easier. They exited the building, stepping out into the afternoon sun that was beating down on the streets of Los Santos. "Enough about my shit, though. What;s up with you?"

"Oh you know, same old. I've been on a few dates with this girl, but I'm not so sure it's gonna work out." Gavin mused, slipping his sunglasses over his eyes and trying to ignore the hot sun.

"Oh yeah?" Geoff teased, elbowing Gavin slightly in the ribs, "Why not? Just 'can't be bothered' again?" The last time Gavin had "broken up" (Stopped responding to her calls) with one of his pseudo girlfriends, he'd claimed that it was just too much effort.

Gavin chuckled, smiling genuinely at Geoff as they approached the burger joint. "No, well sort of... She's a little odd Geoff and I think she's hiding something from me." He ran a hand through his poofy hair, successfully fluffing it up slightly.

Geoff raised an eyebrow, "What, like you think she's a serial murder or she got a boob job? There are various levels of 'hiding something.'" The cashier behind the counter gave them a horrified look, and Geoff grinned, placing his order casually.

"I don't think she murdered anyone, but I'm pretty sure her boobs are real." Gavin laughed, giving the cashier his order as well before moving to the side to wait. "How do you even tell if they aren't real?"

Geoff grinned slyly, making a groping motion with his hands, "If you feel silicone, they're fake." The tattooed man knew from experience; being the leader of a well known criminal organization, as well as devilishly handsome, if he said so himself, meant that there were no shortage of people- both men and women- who wanted to fuck you.

"Thanks for the image, Geoff." Gavin groaned, slapping the man's hands from out of the air. He grabbed his food and thanked the man before moving to sit down at a table. "Like you even get around anymore." Gavin muttered mockingly.

Geoff pressed a hand to his heart mockingly, grabbing his tray and sliding into the seat across from Gavin, "Hey, I am a well sought after individual! Did I tell you about the girl I dated a few months ago? She had boobs… and a dick. Best lay of my life, dude," Geoff nodded sagely, though it wasn't strictly true. Being in love happened to make sex a hell of a lot better.

Gavin almost spit out the food he was eating as he gaped at the man. "I do not need to know about your sex life, Geoffrey." Gavin whined, but chuckled anyway; shaking his head. He took a bite of the fries, shoving the food into his mouth unappeasingly.

"Fine, deprive yourself," Geoff said, munching on a fry, "But anyways, this girl you're dating or going on dates with or whatever- what do you think she's hiding?"

"If I knew that Geoff there wouldn't be an issue, she just gets super sketchy at random topics. Like we were talking about all the gangs in LS and she just started changing the topic like crazy; and when I asked her why, she took off to the bathroom." Gavin muttered, furrowing his brows in confusion.

"Hmm…" Geoff furrowed his brow, taking a bite of his burger, "What's her name? You never know, she could be a member of one of them. It's not so far fetched."

"Her name is Meg, I don't actually know her last name." Gavin shrugged, frowning slightly. "Like I said, we're probably gonna stop going out soon."

Geoff frowned; he hadn't heard the name before, but that didn't mean much. Jack was the one who kept savvy with the goings on in the various gangs of Los Santos. "Alright," the man shrugged, taking another big bite of his burger.

Gavin hummed lightly as he shoved another fry in his mouth, washing it down with some of the Dr.Pepper he'd gotten. "So, uh.."

Geoff raised his eyebrows, shoving the rest of his burger in his mouth and chewing slowly. "Whaf?" he asked, voice distorted by the food.

"Nothing, nevermind." Gavin shook his head uncaring, this wasn't his place to get involved. He didn't have a right to tell Geoff anything, no matter how much he cared about the man.

"Dude, seriously: what's got your panties in a twist?" Geoff asked, polishing off his soda and secretly wishing it was alcohol.

"Nothing." Gavin reassured, smile gracing his face as he shoved the food away from him. "Well, I'm stuffed."

"Same," Geoff nodded, "Let's go back to apartment and check on Michael," he hoped the younger man hadn't woken up while they were gone.

 

Gavin nodded, leaving his tray there uncaringly. "Alright, let's go." Gavin laced an arm around Geoff's shoulders, bumping their hips together playfully. "Are you mad at him?"

Geoff sighed, his good mood deteriorating slightly, "I don't know.. Maybe? I just… I want answers, but he's so god damn skittish." He looped an arm around Gavin, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his other hand.

"Yeah... he is." Gavin agreed, nodding gently. He was well aware that Michael was quick to dart away from any sign of affection, or confrontation at that. "I just don't want you to end up drinking yourself into oblivion again cause he leaves."

"I didn't drink my- okay, maybe I did a little," Geoff conceded, trying to let the warmth of the afternoon sun on his back calm him, "But that's fucking normal for me, Gav. Alcohol is a universal problem solvent."

"Okay, fair enough but I also don't want you to end up with alcohol poisoning and find you dead on the living room." Gavin muttered, but smiled good naturedly. He wasn't too worried about Geoff, the man could handle himself. He opened the door to the condos. "Ladies' first."

"After you, twink," Geoff smirked, giving the Brit a small shove.

Gavin flopped forward slightly, rolling his eyes as he made his way into the elevator and pressed the button. "Does Michael need more painkillers?" He asked curiously, if just to make conversation on the ride up.

"Eh, maybe. They're supposed to last 8 hours, but then again he's probably in a shit ton of pain," Geoff shrugged, "Also, I mostly use them for hangovers and recreational drug use, so… who knows. At least they aren't laced with anything… I hope," he muttered. One of his dealers had tried that a few months back, and it hadn't ended well for the man.

"Hmm." Gavin muttered slinking out of the elevator when it opened and making his way to Geoff's apartment, he opened the door as quietly as he could pushing his way in. Michael was in the middle of another nightmare, feet pounding on the cement as he tried to escape the bullets; his body was thrashing slightly; but he was otherwise quiet.

Geoff screwed his lips to the side worriedly as he watched the younger man twitch, walking over to the couch and putting a soothing hand on Michael's forehead, trying to wake him gently.

Gavin shut the door quietly, moving to the kitchen to put up the burger he'd gotten for Michael in case the man wanted to eat something later.

Michael jumped at the contact, eyes opening blearily as he stared up at Geoff; relaxing visibly at the realization that it was only a dream.

"Hey, buddy," Geoff smiled at him, "It's 4 in the afternoon. How're you feeling?"

Michael yawned, hand moving to pat at Geoff's cheek weakly as he rolled over onto his back. "Like I got shot in the leg and got my ribs kicked in." Michael murmured, smile falling unto his face.

/God, he's so cute like this/, Geoff thought wistfully. Even with his bruised face and torso, Michael snuggled into his couch was probably the best thing the tattooed man had seen all day. He felt a light blush spread over his cheeks, wishing he could take Michael's face in his hands and kiss him. "Do you need anymore painkillers?" he asked, glancing away.

"No." Michael whined, shaking his head. "I don't want to sleep anymore." The pills put him out too fast and he wasn't ready to go back to sleep yet. He slid a hand down to rub as his aching ribs, while the other one tangled up in his curls; they still had blood in them whereas most of the caked blood had left his body.

"Alright then, want a shower?" Geoff asked, wrinkling his nose. Michael smelled like a fermented mixture of sweat and blood, though he didn't imagine he smelled much better himself.

"Yeah." Michael nodded, a shower did sound good. Even before he finished answering he was already pulling himself from the couch; only managing to wince a few times as he stood. He was sort of glad for the bullet in his foot, it allowed the limp to look understandable at least. He started a hobble to the bathroom, greedily grabbing at the wall for support.

Geoff sidled up beside him, pulling one of Michael's arms over his shoulders so that the younger man could use him as a crutch. "Oh, no you don't; you're on Geoff watch, remember?" he grinned down at Michael, "I'm not going to let you slip and fall in." He said the words cheekily, but internally he winced at the thought of the auburn haired man slipping in the tub and cracking his head on Geoff's immaculately tiled shower.

Michael let his weight rest on Geoff then, rolling his eyes visibly at Geoff's words. "Yeah, yeah." Michael resisted the urge to make a sarcastic comment at the older man's expense but thought better of it, things were tense enough between the two already. By the time they'd made it to the bathroom Michael was breathing deeply, feeling his energy depleting already. It made him frustrated more than anything, he had to rely on someone else for most everything and while he was glad it was Geoff, he didn't enjoy the feeling of being babied.

Geoff let Michael rest on the seat of the toilet before turning on the bath. He'd decided to forgo the shower, as it would require Michael to stand for an extended period of time, and the bath was, if anything, fancier than the shower. It was a large, porcelain affair with jets lining the sides and a variety of, admittedly cheap, soaps lining the sides. Geoff slid one finger under the stream of water flowing from the tap, nodding contentedly when he judged it to be hot enough.

Michael watched Geoff run the bath, absentmindedly tapping his fingers against his jeans. He was feeling more anxious about this than he should've been, avoiding eye contact and deciding to check out his stitched bullet wound instead. It looked clean, so that was good at least; though it was a messy stitch.

Geoff retrieved a clean towel from one of the cabinets, draping it across the counter before closing the bathroom door. Though Gavin and Michael were friends- best friends, in all likelihood- Geoff wasn't so sure either man would be comfortable walking in on the other naked.

Michael was still avoiding the inevitable, turning around to look in the mirror. It was the first time he had in a few days and he had to admit, it certainly wasn't a pretty sight. He grimaced at the bruised eye and his messy hair; running a hand up to try and fix it somewhat.

Geoff watched the tub fill, turning the tap off once it was 3/4 of the way filled with water. The liquid steamed slightly, and Geoff couldn't help but think how inviting it looked. He shook his head, trying to brush off the thoughts of bathing with Michael snuggled against his chest.

Michael frowned at his reflecting face, tilting his head to glance at the hickeys across his neck; he really couldn't help being impressed by Geoff's restraint on this one. Michael wanted to punch himself for getting them. He closed his eyes tightly, turning away from his reflection as he glanced back towards the bath. It looked nice and soothing and he couldn't help feeling giddy at the fact that he actually got to enjoy it.

"Alright," Geoff said, giving Michael a lopsided grin, "Take off your pants," he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, trying to remove some of the tension from the air.

Michael could feel the blush creep up his cheeks, and though he wanted to reassure himself with the fact that Geoff had seen him naked before; the thought left a bad taste in his mouth and he could only guess it had something to do with guilt. Never the less, he stood; choosing to use the counter for balance as he undid the button and slid his zipper down. He pushed them from his hips as quickly as possible, along with his boxers; his face was flushing heavily as he maneuvered his way closer to the bath.

Geoff rolled his eyes, but felt a blush creep onto his own face, "Come on, Michael. 's not like I haven't seen your dick before," he mumbled, reaching an arm out for the younger man to use as support when he climbed into the tub.

"I know." Michael hissed back, a little too venomously for the position he was currently in. Though he let Geoff support him as he clambered into the tub and settled into the hot water; breathing out a sigh at the instant relaxation he felt. He moved to let himself settle against the back of the tub; ignoring the sting of his bullet wound. He could wash in a minute, for now he was gonna enjoy the water.

Geoff let out a jealous breath as Michael settled into the water, sitting down on the edge of the tub and trailing his fingers through the warm liquid. He grabbed the plastic cup next to him, dunking it in the water and pouring the contents over Michael's head, chuckling when the man spluttered. "Gotta wash your hair, dude," he grinned, grabbing a shampoo bottle and squeezing some of the gel onto his fingers.

Michael glared at him when the man poured water over the top of his head. "Asshole." Michael murmured, but leaned closer so that Geoff could wash his hair correctly. It was soothing, in a weird sort of way and he couldn't help the contented shudder that ran through him at gentle scratching of his scalp.

Even after he'd cleaned away all the dried blood from the man's scalp, Geoff continued to massage it gently. It was strangely therapeutic, and the shiver that ran through Michael only served to make him grin and massage harder. Eventually, though, Geoff admitted that he should probably stop, given the mounting pile of suds atop the man's head. He rinsed Michael's hair with the cup once more, leaning down to kiss him gently on the top of the head once he was finished.

Michael raised an eyebrow at Geoff once he was kissed, he smirked cheekily up at Geoff before sending a splash straight to his face. He let the laughs fall through his body at the water fell from Geoff's face, though his ribs stung slightly. He realized it was childish, but shrugged it off due to the fact that this entire situation was childish.

Geoff let out a surprised laugh, wiping at the water dripping off of his face with a sleeve. "You cheeky fuckin' bastard!" he exclaimed, looking down at his now-wet dress shirt. He fumbled with the buttons, unwilling to spend the rest of Michael's bath with his shirt sticking to his skin. He balled up the soaking garment, tossing it onto the counter easily.

"Like you weren't purposely trying to get the soap in my eyes." Michael smirked, watching with raised eyebrows as the man stripped of his shirt. Well, that hadn't been exactly what he wanted to happen... He shuffled further into the water; scrubbing at a patch of dirt on his arm.

"Please," Geoff scoffed good-naturedly, "Like I'd try and make your vision more shit than it already is." He picked up a bar of soap, nudging Michael lightly to lean forward so that the tattooed man could reach his back.

Michael let out a laugh but leaned forward, wincing slightly at the new position; still absently scrubbing the spot on his arm. "My visions only bad from looking at you too many times."

 

"Mmm, must be why I have 20/20," Geoff murmured with a quiet smile, rubbing the bar of soap over Michael's back before giving that up, lathering his hands to work over the younger man with them instead. He was pleased to see that, other than a few errant bruises, Michael's back was unmarked. He traced the outline of the man's shoulder blades reverently with a finger, reveling in the smooth contact.

Michael rolled his shoulder blades a few times, stretching the muscles at Geoff moved his hands across his back. He fidgeted with his hands; tapping the fingers against each other. Michael bit at his lip to bite back the slight groan that was trying to force it's way past his lips. He glanced back at Geoff questioningly, eyebrow raised.

Geoff rinsed his hands in the water, smoothing them over Michael's back and rinsing away the lather. He just wanted to settle into the bath behind Michael, rest his chin on his shoulder and keep him utterly safe… But no, Michael would probably leap away at the blatant display of affection and there were still the hickeys to consider. He sighed at the thought, not quite content to only have this quiet moment, rather than a plethora of them.

Michael could feel his eyelids starting to fall, in mix with the light touches; his body was still recovering and just the simple things were taking a lot out of him. He splashed the water unto his face, hoping for it to wake him up a little more.

"Doing okay there, buddy?" Geoff chuckled, removing his hands in an effort to get Michael to lie back again so that the older man could wash his chest.

"Tired." Michael muttered honestly, leaning back against the tub and resting his head on the rim of it. His eyes were drooping slightly, yawn creeping it's way from his mouth.

"Mm, don't fall asleep on me," Geoff said absently, letting his gaze roam over Michael's body, not obscured in the slightest by the clear water, as he lathered his palms once more. His gaze alighted on Michael's hip and the bruises covering it, letting his eyes trail down the path of bruised flesh, grimacing when he noticed the hickeys on Michael's inner thigh.

"Okay." Michael nodded briefly, though he wasn't too sure he could stay awake; not with Geoff's touches as gentle as they were. He propped a foot up against the side of the tub; the stinging from the wound getting to be too much for him to handle.

Geoff frowned at Michael's submerged chest, unsure if he should get the man to sit up or drain the tub a little. Given the man's half-asleep expression, Geoff opted for the latter, pulling the plug momentarily and watching the water drain away. He put the stop back in once Michael's torso was exposed to the air, gently massaging the blood that the bath hadn't soaked away.

 

Michael couldn't help the tingle in his stomach when Geoff started massaging against his skin, shivering slightly against the contact. His eyes were still closing sleepily, but his abdomen was tensing painfully and adding more pressure to his ribs.

Geoff made sure to glide over Michael's injured side, rather than press into it as he'd done with the rest of his skin. Once he judged the man sufficiently clean, Geoff used the cup to rinse him off and leaned in, kissing Michael's forehead gently. "Okay, you're done."

Michael nodded, opening his eyes and letting out another yawn. He moved to stand up; grabbing unto Geoff for balance as he stepped out of the tub and reached for the towel. He was swaying on his feet as he rubbed the towel against his wet hair.

Geoff stepped in behind him, looping his arms supportively around Michael's waist and leaning his chin on the man's shoulder. It was warm, but chaste, despite Michael's nakedness, or at least that's how it felt to Geoff… The sight of the man's sleepy brown eyes and childlike face in the mirror made him sigh with contentment.

Michael could feel himself tense when Geoff wrapped his arms around him, it felt nice but there was still the guilt in his mind and it was starting to drive him crazy. He didn't understand why Geoff was being so nice to him, not that he wasn't enjoying the gentleness; but he wasn't sure why the man was reacting in such a positive way given the circumstances. "Can I have some cleaner clothes?" Michael muttered, eyes meeting Geoff's in the reflection of the mirror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	12. Chapter 12

Geoff nodded, slipping out of the bathroom and grabbing a pair of boxers and a t-shirt from the selection of clothing Michael had amassed at his apartment. He handed them over to the other man, taking a seat on the counter and trying to voice the question that had been swimming in his head since yesterday.

Michael stepped into the boxers, sliding them up and over his hips. He had to grip unto Geoff's thigh for a moment as he nearly fell; but regained his balance quickly. He grabbed the shirt and struggled to get his head through the hole; tugging it down across his body.

Geoff reached out a hand, stroking Michael's bruised neck and eyeing the man questioningly. "So…" he murmured, unsure of how to voice his question aloud without seemed too… jealous? Desperate?

"What?" Michael snapped, hating himself immediately for it. He didn't have to be defensive with Geoff, he owed him an explanation; that was the fair thing to do. He didn't have to approach the situation with anger, Geoff had a right to be hurt.

"… you know what I mean," Geoff said, glancing downwards. He felt guilty for asking, for pressuring Michael into this situation, but he also felt absurdly jealous and betrayed.

"They happen when someone sucks or bites on the skin, usually." Michael quipped snarkily, charismatic smirk forming across his face as he let his hands fidget with Geoff's belt. He didn't mean anything rude by it, he just didn't want to have the conversation and figured avoiding it might be the best.

"Yes, I realize that," Geoff said, sternly gripping Michael's wrists in an attempt to still them, "It's the who I'm wondering about."

"You'll be mad." Michael whispered quietly, almost too quiet for Geoff to hear. He looked down at his hands hesitantly.

"Maybe," Geoff said softly, reaching up a hand to tilt Michael's head up to look at him, "But I was mad when you watched Ryan torture someone, and I'd say that turned out okay."

Michael furrowed his brows, he really didn't want to talk about it and he definitely didn't want to have the guilt emerge. He knew Geoff would be upset, and the gentleness would be long gone. He sighed, taking a breath and mumbling a quiet. "Ryan."

Geoff dropped his hand immediately at the sound of the single syllable, soft expression slipping from his face. "What?" he asked in a flat monotone, face devoid of any of the emotions boiling inside him.

 

Michael bit at his lip, staggering slightly due to the time he'd been on his feet. "I told you you'd be mad..." Michael muttered, bringing a hesitant hand to Geoff's chest to steady himself.

"You… let him fuck you." It was less of a question than a statement, and Geoff's voice curled around it with evident disgust. He didn't remove Michael's hand, but went rigid at the touch. The marks on Michael's neck seemed even more malicious now than they had before, and the memory of the bruises on the man's thigh made Geoff's stomach twist.

Michael felt like crying at the harsh feeling of guilt that surrounded him. "I'm sorry." Michael apologized quietly, removing his hand the moment he thought he wouldn't fall over if he stood by himself. He knew his apology wouldn't help at this point, but thought he'd try anyway.

"Why?" The question was filled with genuine dislike, though it wasn't directed at Michael, not really. Ryan was the one Geoff wanted to dismantle, piece by piece… He'd fucked /his/ Michael and left bruises that wouldn't fade for weeks. He'd marked him, claimed him, overwritten Geoff's brands with more than a few of his own… Geoff curled his lip at the thought.

"I don't know. I didn't plan it... it just." Michael sighed, he really honestly truly didn't know; he was all around confused by the two of them. "He was angry about the hickeys you left and I felt bad." At least, Michael thought that was what it was; he wasn't about to explain the need to have Ryan's approval. He really didn't even need to tell Geoff all of this stuff, and he was sure if Ryan found out he'd be mad at the man. Though that wasn't something new, he was getting used to disappointing people.

"You felt… bad," Geoff let out a bark of laughter, "Oh, of course. That just takes the fucking cake. 'I'll just let the psychopath fuck my brains out because he doesn't like that I boned somebody else!' That's the most fucking whorish thing I've ever heard," he spat out the last in a venomous mutter, half hoping Michael hadn't heard him, the other half glad if it made the other man crumble.

Michael flinched visibly from the words, eyes growing cold and emotionless fast. He was thankful for the quick response, he definitely didn't want Geoff to see the pain in his eyes. He knew the man was right, it did sound whorish and Michael wasn't about to pretend that it didn't.

"I'm...I'm gonna go home, I think." Michael announced, he didn't know how he was gonna get home but he'd find some way. He began to push away from Geoff, mustering up the willpower to limp his way out of the bathroom.

"Fine," Geoff almost snarled, hopping off the counter and gripping Michael's arm almost painfully, beginning to drag him towards the living room, "I'll get Gavin to drive you." He cut off a quip about repaying the man with a blow job; it was much too harsh, even for the situation.

 

"No. I'll find my own fucking way, I think you've done enough." Michael hissed, trying to yank his arm away as he glared at the older man. Truth be told he'd expected Geoff to tell him to stay, but couldn't say he blamed him when he didn't.

"What's going on?" Gavin asked curiously from the couch, already moving to stand up when he noticed Geoff's grip on Michael's arm.

"Nothing," Geoff spat out, releasing Michael's arm and almost shoving him towards Gavin. He needed a drink. He needed twelve drinks and a good fuck and a fistfight. "Michael's going home."

Gavin automatically went forward to hold Michael up as he stumbled slightly, pulling the man's arm around his shoulders despite Michael's struggling to get to the door. "Geoff... He can't exactly walk and I-" Gavin started,

"Jesus fuck! Gavin, let me go!" Michael hissed, finally yanking free and towards the door; slamming it open and angrily storming out as fast as he could manage.

"I can't carry him.." Gavin finished, shooting Geoff a sharp glare as he made his way to follow him. "Really?" He mouthed harshly; heading to make sure Michael didn't do something stupid like fall down the stairs.

Geoff gave the door a disgusted glare as it shut behind the man, grabbing a bottle of gin and taking a gulp of it, straight. The taste matched his mood almost perfectly, and he took another swig. Hopefully he could just drink himself into oblivion...

Gavin managed to stop the elevator just before it closed; taking sight of Michael leaning against the corner; eyes bleary with anger and pain. Gavin was hesitant to approach the man whose breathing was making him grow worried. "Michael...can you calm down?" Gavin asked coolly.

"I hate him." Michael hissed.

"Michael, you don't mean that you're just angry... just calm down." Gavin tried to reassure.

"He called me a whore." Michael seethed, nearly running from the elevator when the noise dinged and the door open.

Gavin was a little taken aback as he followed Michael. "Let me drive you home." Gavin attempted calmly.

"I don't need a ride, Gav. I can manage."

 

"Michael, you've got cracked ribs and a bullet in your foot. You can't walk home like that!" Gavin practically yelled as Michael hobbled through the front doors.

"Gavin, I swear if you don't fuck off." Michael seethed back, clutching his ribs as he walked.

"Michael, please. Just let me take you home, I'll leave the moment you're inside." Gavin begged, but it didn't seem to be doing much and he couldn't exactly match Michael's strength, with or without injury. If there was a positive note, it was that Michael's small, decrepit house was only a few alleyways away and they'd already made it a few blocks.

"Stop fucking following me." Michael growled, turning his head to glare back at him.

"I just want to make sure you don't kill over on the side of the road..." Gavin murmured, glancing ahead at the houses they were close to passing. The rest of the walk was silent as Michael struggled to stay on his feet, turning only when they reached his house. Michael checked his pockets, realizing his keys were missing. He ducked down to dig up a little of the dirt, finding the spare one and using it to unlock the door instead.

"Are you okay?" Gavin tried carefully, standing a few feet behind him, he made the motion to grab the door but didn't manage it in time for Michael to slam it shut and lock it.

"Call me tomorrow so I know you didn't die..." Gavin muttered, hopefully loud enough that the man would hear it. He started his trek back, pulling out his phone to fill Jack in on what had happened; he didn't even know if they got Michael back safe or not.

Jack sighed as the phone rang, extracting herself from the mass of tangled limbs that she and Caiti had become. She gave her girlfriend a kiss on the forehead, a silent promise to return to their movie marathon in a moment. Caiti screwed her lips to the side in mock unhappiness, but broke into a grin when kissed her more forcefully. "I'll just be a second," the woman muttered, laughing when Caiti gave her retreated figure a swat on the ass. This is what she got for taking a day off…

"Hello?" Jack gripped into the phone, hoping that whoever was calling would get the hint and hang up as soon as possible.

Inside his house, it hadn't taken Michael long to break down at all. He had instantly slid down the door, hands clutching at his curls and yanking them as his breathing sped up and hit painfully against his ribs. He hurt a hell of a lot more now than before, the physical exertion not helping in the slightest. He wished he'd taken those pain killers now, hell, he'd wished he'd had the whole fucking bottle. He could feel the hot tears flooding down his cheeks as he took comfort in the fact that no one could see him, he let himself curl up sideways; arms curling protectively in front of him and pulling his knees closer to his body. It was habitual for him, though he didn't suffer breakdowns often; not anymore.

Gavin was bouncing on his barefoot feet, mentally cursing Geoff for making him walk on the hot sidewalk barefoot as he headed back up the street to the apartment.

Jack leaned against the kitchen counter with a groan, just about ready to hit something when she saw Gavin's number. What was it going to be this time? Another kidnapping, a gang war, Geoff drinking himself into a blind stupor? "What's the problem, Gav?" she asked with a heavy sigh.

"Jack! Well, uh; it's a long story, after Michael got kidnapped we got him back safe and all and last night was okay; I woke up and they were just snuggling on the couch." Gavin informed, almost tripping over a crack in the sidewalk. "He has cracked ribs and a bullet in his foot, but we fixed it up. This afternoon I went out with Geoff to eat and everything, came back and he woke Michael up; got him showered and everything. I don't know what bloody happened, but he practically threw Michael at me and told me to take him home, and Michael just like lunged for the door and he wouldn't let me drive him home. So he just walked, and he's inside now but I'm heading back to check on Geoff... I think he might be worse off."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Jack almost shouted, "Can't those two work out their god damn relationship issues on their own? I am so fucking SICK of dealing with this shit," she slammed her fist into the side of the counter, trying to release some of the anger building within her. "Sorry…" the woman breathed in a slightly calmer tone, "I just want a day to myself sometimes, you know?"

"Yeah, yeah I get it." Gavin agreed with Jack in more ways than one, he wasn't exactly looking forward to cleaning up after Geoff again. "You don't have to come over or anything, I just wanted to give you an update; are you with Caiti?" Gavin's tone changed from serious to excited within only a few seconds, he was always curious about the woman's' dynamic.

Jack gave a little laugh at the abrupt change, "Yeah. She got off work early today, so we're having movie night. We're watching every single dog movie she could get her hands on," the woman smiled at the thought; there was nothing like having a cute, funny girlfriend to come home to after a day of, well, being in a gang.

"Tell her I said hello, or don't. You won't anyway." Gavin laughed, sliding his way past the doors to where Geoff lived, moving to catch the elevator. "Have a good day, I'll talk to you later." Gavin hung up then, glad to have gotten the drama off of his chest. Now to take care of Geoff, great. He pressed the up button and waited patiently until it dinged and let him out; he took a breath before knocking hesitantly on Geoff's door; opening it quietly and peeking it.

 

Geoff was sprawled on the couch, still shirtless, with a half empty bottle of gin clutched in his grasp. There was an array of throwing knives spread out on the coffee table before him, and several more sticking out of the wall above the TV. Geoff let out an almost angry growl as he picked up another one, hurling it at the wall with such force that the blade buried itself in the plaster all the way to the hilt.

"Jesus, Geoff..." Gavin muttered, opening the door fully and sliding in before shutting it behind him. "You're gonna wreck your walls if you keep doing that..."

"Fuck off, Gav," Geoff growled, not even bothering to look up at the man as he threw another knife with devastating force, "Or, if you want to be fucking useful, print me out a picture of Ryan and tack it to the wall so I can poke holes in that fucker's ugly face."

"We...don't have a printer." Gavin muttered back, rolling his eyes at Geoff. He didn't dare take the knives away though, if Geoff wanted to ruin his walls he could. For the most part, he looked okay; given the circumstances.

Geoff didn't respond, hurling another knife at the wall instead. It barely missed the TV, hitting the space just above the flat screen with an audible 'thunk.' Geoff let out a curse, tipping back the gin bottle and chugging down the alcohol until the bottle was only a quarter full.

Gavin sighed audibly, walking over to the man and snatching up the knives from the table. "Okay, you're done with that." Gavin actually liked that TV and since he practically lived with the older man, it was his right to stop it from getting destroyed. "Do you wanna tell me why you made Michael leave?" Gavin asked irritably, Geoff wasn't being very cooperative.

"I didn't /make/ Michael do anything," Geoff snarled, "He left all on his fucking own. What, you think I fucking control him?" The man took another swig of gin, managing to make his every movement seem angry.

Gavin resisted the urge to say yes, choosing to instead run the tips of his fingers over his eyebrows tiredly. "I swear, you two have the absolute worst communication skills."

"The hell does that mean?" Geoff glared at the other man. It wasn't his god damn fault Michael didn't know what he wanted, wasn't willing to tell Geoff a fucking thing about his life. Just kept it all locked away in his head until someone managed to pry it out of him.

"It means, neither one of you aren’t willing to be honest with each other and it leaves you both angry." Gavin huffed back, moving to yank the knives out of the wall; he propped his foot up to gain more leverage as he did. "How much have you had?" Gavin demanded, pointing to the bottle.

 

Geoff ignored the question, preferring to take another drink in response, "I'm perfectly fucking honest. Michael's the one with trust issues… Jesus fuck, Gav! He's such a fucking-" Geoff cut himself off tipping back the bottle of gin and swallowing the rest of it down.

Gavin winced at the tone, raising an eyebrow at Geoff's drinking. "He's always had trust issues, that's not a new thing." Gavin still hadn't even heard the whole story of their argument, though he had his bets that it probably had to do with the hickeys. "What exactly happened?"

Geoff paused, unsure of whether or not to protect Michael's privacy. But no, the man hadn't thought about Geoff's feelings when he'd gone and fucked a psychopath, so Geoff didn't really feel any loyalty to him. "He let Ryan fuck him," the tattooed man snarled, wishing he had another bottle of alcohol to calm himself down.

Gavin gaped for a second, a little taken aback and unsure of the information. At least the insult made sense now, though he didn't think it was necessarily true. "So..that's why you called him a whore?" Gavin ran a hand through his poofy locks. "Fuck... Well, uh..."

"I called him whorish," Geoff corrected, stumbling to his feet and walking to the kitchen with an unbalanced air. He grabbed a beer from the fridge, though he would have preferred something stronger.

"There's not much difference in those words.." Gavin muttered, following him. "Come on, you've had enough... just lay down and nap or something."

"Fuck you," Geoff muttered. He was too angry to deal with Gavin's patronizing bullshit. "I'm a fucking adult, I don't need you to tell me what I can and can't handle."

"Fine, whatever." Gavin muttered, "Don't burn down the fucking house." Gavin hissed out as he moved down the hall to head to his room; he'd check on Geoff later but if the man wanted to have a pity party; it was his decision.

Geoff sprawled back on the couch, unscrewing the top to his beer and cursing the fact that Gavin had taken his throwing knives.

 

 

_____

 

The last day and a half had been rather relaxing for Ryan, despite the fact that he'd woken up to an empty bed. He'd shrugged it off, content that he'd left Michael with a limp and something to remember him by. He'd spent his free time playing video games and finishing a novel or two. His mind wandered aimlessly, mostly to thoughts of the rest of the crew and how they were faring. He grinned, imagining the look on Geoff's face when Michael came stumbling back to him. He wondered how Ray was doing and whether or not the younger man had gotten over his stomach bug. It was all very… mundane, and rather boring. The itch underneath the tips of his fingers was growing stronger by the hour.

Michael hadn't moved much from his spot in front of the door, hiccuping occasionally; but his sobbing had slowed and the ache in his ribs took over most of his thoughts. He ran his fingers aimlessly over his arm, there were slight imprints from Geoff's fingers; but it was fading quickly. He figured he should stumble to the bed, or the couch, but the effort was too much and Michael didn't dare struggle to move at all.

Ryan stretched, pausing his game and getting up to turn off his Xbox. If the small sliver of light coming through the window above his sink was any indication, it was getting on in the day and Ryan wanted have time to shower and dress semi-decently before he went out for a night on the town. He made sure to slip his mask and a few of his favorite knives into a duffel as he left; he wasn't planning on having /that/ kind of fun tonight, but you never knew. There had been times when he'd spotted just the perfect person- smooth, unmarred skin and a voice so tantalizing Ryan was aching to know how their screams sounded- only to be utterly unprepared for the occasion.

Michael was upset that his mind wouldn't slow down for five seconds, he was going through every option of retreat. He knew, from the moment the word stung unnecessarily hard to his heart, he was too attached. Michael Jones didn't get attached, it wasn't his thing and the only few times he had it had ended horribly. Tragically, almost. He thought about quitting the gang, running from Los Santos the moment his ribs healed. He could do it, just go; never talk to any of them again. Though his heart stung painfully at the thought of it. He ran his hands across his face, wiping the tears from his damp cheeks and huffing loudly; though no one could hear him

Ryan slipped into the driver's seat of his car, preparing to head out to the nearest bar, but stopped himself. There was really no reason for it, was there? He'd go, have maybe one drink, observe the patrons, fend off whatever flirting came his way, and go home. There were, perhaps, much more interesting mind games to play now. Ryan found himself smiling as he turned onto the road that would lead him to Michael's apartment.

Michael nearly whimpered when he stretched out, rolling onto his back in front of the door. He bit back the need to cry again, a few stray tears sliding down his face as he stared at the ceiling. Everything stung, every ounce of his body felt like it'd been hit multiple times and he weakly made an attempt to get up; falling back quickly due to the pain. He really should've taken Gavin's offer to drive him home.

Ryan pulled up in front of Michael's house, now glad that he'd gone to the impromptu party the man had hosted months before. Ryan left his duffel bag in the car, making sure to lock it before sauntering up to Michael's door and knocking. He wasn't sure if the man was home or not, but either way, he was sure he could find something to do.

Michael jumped at the sound of knocking, glancing over at the door he was only an inch or so away from. He didn't think Gavin would come back to check on him already; and he certainly didn't think Geoff would be apologizing yet. He sat up as best he could manage, bringing the ends of his shirt to wipe off the rest of his tears before attempting to get to his feet as best he could; he stumbled a few times, before taking a long breath and opening the door. He frowned at Ryan, well that was the last person he was expecting to show up and part of him automatically wanted to close the door in his face.

Ryan's coy smirk slipped off his face as soon as he caught sight of the other man. Clad in only boxers and a t-shirt, Michael would've looked like he'd just woken up if it weren't for the tears tracks staining his face. One of his eyes was blackened, the skin around it a shocking purplish color that faded to yellow at the edges. When Ryan looked down, scanning the man, he could see sloppy stitches closing a wound just above the man's ankle.

"Holy fuck… What happened to you?" he asked, eyebrows shooting up in a way that was almost concerned.

"It's a long fucking story. I got held hostage for a while." Michael murmured, leaning his head against the door and holding onto it for support as he glanced at Ryan. He didn't offer any other explanation, just tired eyes and a slight grimace.

"You got-" Ryan wrinkled his brow. How had no one bothered to tell him about this? "Do you… need help?" he offered, noting the way Michael was clinging desperately to the doorframe.

"Uh, I-I'm alright, I just... walked home and uh, it didn't feel so good." Michael muttered, shrugging his shoulders matter-of-factly. He could feel his eyes starting to water again and he willed them away, though he was sure the glossy look wasn't exactly hard to figure out. This would be the second time he nearly cried in front of Ryan and that irritated him to all get out.

"You can come in if you want to, though." Michael wanted to punch himself in the face, even if he didn't care what Geoff thought anymore; inviting the man in probably wasn't the best idea. However, Geoff had left him injured and in pain to walk home alone, it was clear that he didn't give a shit so why should Michael.

Ryan nodded, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. He didn't grab Michael by the shoulders and force him to accept his help as Geoff would have done, simply walking past the injured man to take in his surroundings.

The house was bright by nature, simply painted white walls around a small living room just to the left of the door; the plain brown sofa just in front of the TV squared off the room. To the right was a small dining table, the glass littered with bills and documents that Michael hadn't gotten to working out yet. It was just in front of the small kitchen. Truth be told the house held nothing extravagant, and seemed rather plain looking. It was ironically clean and organized, most everything tucked neatly away into pockets. It was a secret of Michael's, to enjoy taking the time to organize his possessions. Though there weren't many, a few gaming related items along the shelves and the occasional poster. Just behind the living room was a hallway that led to his bedroom and a small office space which he used only on the rare occasion. Michael didn't hesitate to stumble over to the couch and plop down on the leather; wincing as his lungs struggled against his chest.

Ryan quirked an eyebrow at the man's obvious discomfort, but didn't comment on it. He figured that if Michael wanted help, he'd ask for it, and pestering him would only serve to annoy the man. Instead, he ambled over to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water from the tap, filling up another one for Michael as an afterthought.

Michael rubbed at his face weakly, yawn falling from his mouth before he could stop it. He glanced over at Ryan, watching the man fill up the water glasses as he kicked his injured foot up on the side of the couch. "Can you check to see if I have any pain killers? Top cabinet, just above the stove..." Michael murmured.

Ryan nodded an affirmative, opening the cabinet and pulling out one of the bottles. There were more than a few of them tucked away in the space, but Ryan didn't really pay attention to the labels once he'd found the one he wanted. He handed Michael the pills along with the glass of water, lowering himself to a seat on the floor and sipping his own slowly.

Michael swallowed the pills quickly, wincing only slightly as he took the glass to his mouth and downed the water as well. He couldn't help observing Ryan as he sipped his drink, the man was almost a polar opposite to Geoff and it was refreshing to know that the first thing he did wasn't to search through what alcohol Michael had. He also took the floor while Geoff would've moved his feet to his lap and sat down. He couldn't help wanting to run his fingers through Ryan's hair. The good news was his guilt was gone now, replacing itself with anger and hatred for Geoff instead.

"So…" Ryan began, quirking his lips to the side. He wasn't good at this… communicating, expressing himself, showing emotion. It was rather irksome, for all that being able to contain himself was useful. He sipped his water again before continuing, "What happened?" It was a nebulous statement, but Ryan couldn't think of any other way to sous out what was wrong with the man.

"I took two guys from RWBY's gang, boss got pissed and sent one of his best after me; I got caught weaponless so. I got taken to the boss and he punched my face and cracked my ribs." Michael informed him as simply as possible, resting his arm across his forehead and nuzzling back into the comfort of the couch. "They got me back, trade for a trade." He wasn't sure if that was what Ryan meant by what happened, but it seemed like the easiest answer.

"Mmm," Ryan hummed, "Have you gone to the hospital? I hear professional medical attention and prescription painkillers generally help when you're injured." It was a dry, sarcastic statement, but not in the least accusatory. He was simply… concerned? Curious? Perhaps he just wanted to see what Michael was like hopped up on morphine.

Michael shook his head quickly, flinching from the idea. "No. Fuck that." Michael let his other arm hang limply off the side of the couch. He wouldn't dare go to a hospital, the thought itself already sending shivers down his spine.

Ryan shrugged, tilting his head to the side appraisingly, "Who did the shit job sewing up your foot then?"

"Geoff." Michael couldn't help but hiss out the name, hand instantly clenching into a fist. He turned his gaze up to the ceiling and set his jaw tensely.

Ryan raised his eyebrows, but didn't press the issue further. Michael had a right to his privacy, and he hadn't invited Ryan to be here after all. The man finished off his water, setting the glass on the floor next to him, keeping his piercingly blue gaze trained on Michael.

Michael was torn between telling the man, but decided against it as he gritted his teeth. He set down his glass as well; the one that had been resting on his chest. He glanced over at the man's blue eyes, letting a hand slide to the man's neck to gently rub at the skin there. He wanted to blame his emotional state for showing affection, but truth be told he probably would've done it anyway. He was a whore, after all.

Ryan furrowed his brow in confusion at the touch, but tilted his head to the side to allow Michael more room. The man's fingers were warm and smooth against his skin: an oddly tender gesture. Ryan reached up a tentative hand, stroking Michael's cheek with a thumb.

Michael let his fingers drag across the man's skin; tapping gently as he watched the man's face absentmindedly. He leaned closer into the touch, moving slightly to place a gentle kiss to Ryan's thumb. His eyes were closing lightly, the pain killers kicking in and making him drowsy.

Ryan felt his eyebrows draw closer together at the kiss. He'd never experienced something this… oddly intimate before. He'd had very few romantic partners before, and sex, even with them, had always been rough and satisfying, perhaps with some light cuddling afterwards. Other than that, though, Ryan hadn't experienced the stereotypical, sickeningly sweet touches movies always highlighted as the epitome of a good romance. But here, with Michael, Ryan was almost content to let his fingers brush along Michael's skin as he fell asleep.

 

Michael was quick to completely close his eyes, exhaustion creeping up on him too quickly for his liking and leaving him incredibly vulnerable. His hand stilled on Ryan's neck, mouth twitching slightly as he body gave over to the sleep.

Ryan slowed his meandering fingers, noting the way Michael's breathing had slowed until his chest was rising and falling in the slow, steady rhythm of sleep. He didn't know quite what to do, so simply sat there passively, letting his eyes drift closed and leaning slightly forwards to rest his head on the edge of the couch, before he, too, fell into unconsciousness after a few moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed all the angst in this chapter!  
> Is Geoff right? Is Ryan right? Let us know!


	13. Chapter 13

Michael woke up to the chiming of his phone, eyes blinking open blearily as he stretched his arms up over his head; back arching like a cat as the yawn tore from him. He reached his hand into his pocket, yanking out his phone and noting Gavin's number; he pressed the answer button and slid it to his ear; glancing over at Ryan. "Hey Gav." 

He rolled his eyes at the audible sigh of relief. "Thank God you're alive."

Ryan opened his eyes when he felt Michael shift under his palm, sitting up slowly and grimacing at the crick in his spine. He didn't really feel like sitting up though, instead stretching his arms above his head and twisting, making a satisfied noise as his back cracked audibly. "Gavin?" he mouthed, raising an eyebrow.

Michael nodded at him, moving his hand to run through his hair. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine." Michael muttered, "You woke me up, asshole." 

"Sorry! I just wanted to check up on you, do you need anything? Food?" Gavin asked quickly. 

"No, I'm okay. Thanks, Gav. Bye." Michael clicked the end call button impatiently and chucked it across the room; ignoring the tinge of pain his ribs gave at the toss.

"You're going to break your phone," Ryan muttered, settling his arms on the couch and using them to pillow his chin. He still felt stiff from sleeping in such an awkward position, but he imagined Michael- with his numerous bruises and cracked rib- felt much worse.

Michael smirked. "Maybe." He murmured, running a hand softly through the man's hair as he laid back down into a more comfortable position.

"Mm," Ryan murmured, half in agreement, half in pleasure at the touch. He reached down one hand to fumble beside him, searching for the bottle of painkillers Michael had set there last night. After a moment, his fingers wrapped around the plastic, and he handed the pills to the man, eyes half shut due to drowsiness.

Michael took the pills greedily, not about to oppose the thought of the pain dying down once more. "The floor looks uncomfortable..." Michael mused, tugging at the man's hair lightly to try and get him up on the couch as well.

Ryan made a face at the tug, but stood anyways, waiting for Michael to move over so that he could sit.

Michael did, smirking up at him as he moved to sit up and lean against the armrest of the couch. He yawned, but shook his head afterwards trying to will the drowsiness to leave.

 

Ryan sat down on the couch, massaging his neck with both hands and grimacing. He gave up after a moment, the aching there barely eased, and settled an arm around Michael's shoulders gently. "What time is it?"

"Don't know." Michael shrugged, falling into the embrace quickly. He couldn't help leaning his head back, resting it on the man's arm as he nuzzled into the warmth. He let his hand rest timidly on the man's hip; he knew he was being touchy and needy but he couldn't help it, it was a good distraction.

Ryan blinked down at the submissive way Michael curled into him, tentatively brushing a hand over the man's curls, "I didn't mean to stay the night. I apologize."

"Don't; it was nice." Michael mused; bringing his knees closer to him and letting his head rest against Ryan's chest. He was practically in the man's lap; hands curling up to rest on the older man's stomach. He felt his heart clutch at the fact that Ryan was probably just trying to get away at this point, that's what he meant by apologizing. 

"I- agree. It was nice," Ryan tried, cringing at the inelegant way the words fell from his lips. He stroked a hand over Michael's head, practically petting him. The feeling, combined with the warm weight of the man pressed against him, was relaxing and unnerving at the same time.

"You wanna leave don't you?" Michael asked quietly, cringing at the way his voice cracked at the end. He avoided the want to curl up and cry; toughing it out and glancing up at the man nervously.

Ryan furrowed his brow in confusion, "No, not really. I'm quite comfortable here, besides the crick in my neck. But that's mostly my fault." He met Michael's gaze steadily, giving him a small, half-smile.

Michael couldn't stop the relieved smile from breaking out unto his face; nodding understandingly. Michael moved slightly, sitting up straighter and letting either one of his legs rest on either side of Ryan's; he brought his hands up to rub at Ryan's neck. "You shouldn't have slept on the floor." Michael muttered quietly, applying a little bit of pressure to his touches.

Ryan hummed as the tension in his neck began to ebb away, "Where should I have slept then? You were on the couch, and I'm not the type of person to go and invade other people's privacy." Well, sometimes. Most of the time he did whatever was convenient.

"You could've asked me; I didn't expect you to go and fall asleep." Michael murmured, gnawing on his lip as he focused on massaging Ryan's stiff neck. "I would've let you take the bed or something; or at least told you where the blankets were."

Ryan shrugged noncommittally, "I was tired. Plus, now I get a massage, so I think things worked out." He grinned cheekily up at Michael, enjoying the firm way the man's fingers pressed against his skin.

Michael let out a laugh, eyes dancing across Ryan's smile and letting his thumbs stroke across the man's neck as he rubbed. "Hey Ryan, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Ryan raised an eyebrow, "Shoot."

"Do you think it was whorish of me to sleep with both you and Geoff?" Michael muttered quietly, letting his hands slow down. It wasn't fair, he knew that; Geoff had been angry and Ryan was calm, it wasn't a fair challenge but still he couldn't help but think that Geoff's words reigned true and he wanted a second opinion.

"Whorish?" Ryan raised his eyebrow even further, not a mean feat by anyone's standards, "No, not really. You're entitled to fuck whoever you want. I don't have to like it, but it hardly makes you a whore, Michael."

Michael blinked at him a few times before gnawing on his lip and nodding. "Thank you." He muttered, removing his hands to lean forward and nuzzle his face into the crook of Ryan's neck. He laid his hands on the man's hips instead; enjoying the closeness of the situation.

Ryan wrapped his arms around Michael awkwardly, pulling the man closer. "Why do you ask?"

"Geoff called me a whore when he found out." Michael mumbled against his skin; as if on afterthought he pulled back. "I'm sorry I told him- I just- and he-" Michael stumbled over his words, chewing on his lip and fidgeting with his hands nervously. He really didn't know if he could take anyone else being mad at him.

Ryan shook his head in distaste, "Geoff is undeniably possessive. The very reason I dislike him is the fact that he tries to deny that fact; he utterly ignores his own flaws. We are all ultimately flawed beings, but at least most of us admit that." Ryan didn't try to excuse the fact that he killed people, he only knew that he enjoyed it and that it relieved the itch beneath his skin. He had no arrogant delusions that what he did was "right" or "good".

Michael nodded, he was in no mood to want to defend the man and everything Ryan was saying made sense to him. He slid his hands across his chest and burrowed his face once more into the crook of the man's neck. Geoff's disapproval of Michael's actions still stung, because when it came down to it Michael did look up to him. He ignored it in favor of making himself as small as possible against Ryan's body.

Ryan tried to untuck Michael's head from its position against his neck, putting on hand firmly on the man's chin and tilting his face up to meet Ryan's. The older man pressed his lips to Michael's gently, and awkwardly. It didn't consist of the easy, practiced movements that Geoff's always possessed, but rather awkward as their noses bumped and Ryan made a face at his own clumsiness.

Michael was quick to respond, pulling away for a second just to press his lips back on the man's. He visibly shuddered, the gently awkward kiss was confusing in reference to Ryan, but he enjoyed it anyway. He smiled against the man's lips, letting his hands run gently across Ryan's chest.

Ryan trailed one hand up and down Michael's back, gently smoothing the man's T-shirt, rumpled from sleep. The hand that had been gripping Michael's chin snaked around the back of his neck and curled into his hair. Ryan thought that the entire thing felt unnatural and unpracticed, but enjoyable all the same. It would have reminded him of being a teenager, if he'd done such things back then.

Michael enjoyed the lazy kisses, tilting his head slightly as Ryan smoothed out his shirt. He let his fingers dance across Ryan's body, playing absentmindedly with the worn fabric of his t-shirt. He pulled back slightly, grinning at him sweetly as he pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Am I the only one who thinks this feels awkward?" Ryan asked, smiling lopsidedly up at Michael, "Not that it isn't nice, it's just that I'm more used to pressing you up against a wall than… this," he gestured vaguely to the space between them.

Michael visibly blushed at the mention, shrugging his shoulders. "I blame you for the awkwardness, just so you know." Michael joked playfully, letting his fingers stroke across Ryan's lips gently.

Ryan smirked up at him, "Well, I blame you for getting kidnapped and cracking your ribs, because now I can't fuck you," he grinned, pressing a chaste kiss to the side of Michael's neck.  
grace awesomesauce: Michael let out an exasperated whine, pouting his lip. "Fuck." A shiver ran through him, followed by disappointment; he hadn't even thought about that.

"There are other things to do," Ryan shrugged, "For example, if you get off of me, I'll make you breakfast." He gave Michael a quick kiss on the lips before releasing him.

Michael sighed but slid off. "Breakfast isn't exactly the same thing." Michael muttered, rubbing at his sore ribs.

"True," Ryan said, standing up and walking to the kitchen. He opened the pantry door, examining the array of food inside, "But it’s something, and I, personally, am starving."

"What're you making us?" Michael chimed, the idea of food causing his stomach to growl; it'd been too long since he'd eaten anything. He made his way to follow Ryan, limping less than yesterday as he moved to sit on the counter of the kitchen; sufficiently getting in Ryan's way.

"It's your house," Ryan rolled his eyes, "You tell me. I don't really have any idea what you have."

"There's some pancake mix.. I think. Eggs in the fridge, bacon too." Michael murmured, "The bacon might be old though, so check it first." He tapped his fingers along the counter, absentmindedly swinging his feet as he watched Ryan.

"Ah, you truly are a cultured soul," Ryan said dryly, "And here I thought you lived off of Red Bull and the blood of your enemies." He opened the fridge, pulling out the eggs and setting them on the counter beside Michael. He checked the date on the package of raw bacon, wrinkling his nose when he saw that it was two weeks past its expiration date and throwing it into the trash. The milk, however, seemed to be good, and there was indeed a half-empty box of pancake mix in the pantry.

Michael laughed at that, grin lacing his features. "Hey, red bull is good! Not too fond of the blood thing though, gross." Michael watched Ryan grab out the food, making no motion to help in anyway.

Ryan decided it wasn't a good time to mention that he /was/, in fact, fond of blood, instead pulling out skillet from one of the cabinets after a quick search. He filled a measuring cup with water, handing it to Michael and instructing him to, "Get out a bowl and help me," before turning on the stove and cracking an egg into the skillet.

Michael rolled his eyes but clambered off the cabinet; making sure to catch himself on his good foot and not the injured one. He reached above him, arms stretching up to grab a bowl before pouring the water into it. He glanced around for the box of mix, noticing it sitting beside Ryan; he smirked before moving to slide in front of him to grab the box; wiggling his hips slightly as he did. Even if they couldn't fuck, there was no reason Michael couldn't at least have a little fun teasing him.

Ryan snorted at the motion, catching Michael by the shoulders and giving him a firm kiss on the top of the head, "You're going to make me burn the eggs," he grinned, leaning down to give the younger man a light nip on the ear.

Michael smirked up at him; hands gripping at the box before sliding out of his grasp. "Yeah, well don't do that." Michael chuckled, moving to add some of the mix to the bowl.

 

Ryan gave him a light swat on the ass with the spatula he'd found in one of the drawers. He began scrambling the eggs with it, and, as an afterthought, moved to grab the salt and pepper shakers off the dining room table. "How do you like your eggs?"

"Scrambled." Michael answered simply, grabbing two of the eggs from the counter and adding them to the mix. He pulled out a whisk, wishing he had a mixer to do this with. He mixed the batter; glancing over to look at Ryan. He let his eyes travel to the man's ass unashamedly.

Ryan hummed, glad he wouldn't have to make another batch unless Michael was still hungry. He lightly salted and peppered the eggs, getting two plates down from one of the cabinets and turning off the burner. He expertly slid the spatula under the skillet's contents, splitting the eggs evenly between the two of them.

Once the batter was sufficiently mixed, Michael was content to just dip a finger into the batter and licked it absentmindedly; his eyes were still watching Ryan's back as he ate the batter. Raw eggs or not, the shit was deliciously sweet.

Ryan turned, almost dropping the two plates in his hands when he saw the unabashed way Michael was staring at him, sucking on a finger. "Jesus Christ," he cursed, letting out a chuckle, "Are you /trying/ to seduce me?"

"Maybe." Michael shrugged, dipping his finger back in and motioning towards Ryan. "Want some?"

"Sure, why not." He set the plates down on the counter, ambling over to the slightly powder-covered man.

Michael grinned at him, grabbing the man's hip with his non-battered hand; pulling Ryan closer to him. He slid his finger up and into Ryan's mouth, prompting him to lick off the batter.

Ryan curled his tongue around the finger lewdly, making a rather obnoxiously erotic slurping sound as he did so. Two could play at this game. He raised an eyebrow at Michael, daring him to one-up the older man.

Michael's mouth fell open slightly, face growing hot before removing his finger and grabbing up some more of the batter; he let his finger miss the man's mouth, making a line of batter from the corner of his lips and down to his chin. Michael's hands slid up to grab his neck, leaning forward to lick up the batter off Ryan's face.

Ryan wrapped his arms around Michael, pulling him in close and sliding his arms down to squeeze Michael's ass. "I'm still not going to fuck you," he whispered into the man's ear, teasingly running his tongue along the shell. He was sure his face was more than a little flushed by now.

 

Michael groaned at the contact, but nodded never the less. "I know." He murmured back, shuddering at the feeling of Ryan's tongue. He moved to sit up on the counter, using his thumb to dry the spit from Ryan's face.

"So… breakfast?" Ryan chuckled, motioning to the plates he'd set aside. "Or you can start eating while I make that," he jerked his head towards the batter, "Into something more edible."

"Sure." Michael smirked, picking up the plate of eggs and grabbing a fork. He ate a bite, sighing at the taste of the warm food. "Hm, it's good."

Ryan snorted, "Thanks, hardly my best work though." He was a decent cook, all-in-all, he just never put in the effort to practice, preferring quick frozen dinners and microwave popcorn to the time it took to prepare a home cooked meal. He rinsed the skillet, drying it off with dishcloth and pouring pancake mix into it.

Michael continued to eat at the food, absently watching Ryan cook; he had to say it was something he could get used to. He bounced his legs lightly, tapping them back against the wood. "Why're you being so nice to me?"

Ryan shrugged absently, "It isn't really any fun if you're injured, is it? I like my toys unbroken," he flashed Michael a predatory smile before going back to cooking. The whole thing was shockingly domestic. "Kidding, by the way." Well, sort of.

Michael coughed quietly; his eyes widening at the mention of being Ryan's toy. He had to say, it didn't leave him necessarily feeling as bad as it should, and if this is what it meant to be one of Ryan's toys; he certainly wasn't going to complain. "Hmm." Michael hummed, shoveling the rest of the eggs into his mouth.

Ryan flipped his second pancake over with the spatula, content with the way the batter sizzled against the skillet's hot surface. Once it was sufficiently browned, he nudged it out of the pan and on top of the plate that held his first creation. "Is two enough for you?"

"Yeah." Michael nodded, jumping off the counter to walk forward and grab the plate from him, he sat it on the counter before grabbing the syrup and proceeding to drown his pancakes in the sugary substance.

Ryan muttered something about heart failure and diabetes before turning back to the stove with a sigh, preparing his own breakfast. He typically wasn't a big fan of pancakes, but the enthusiasm with which Michael seemed to be downing them made him consider having two himself.

 

Michael leaned over the counter, elbows resting on it as his fork dug into the warm; now slightly soggy pancakes. He took a bite greedily, humming in contentment as he ate. He tapped his non injured foot as he did so, dipping the next bite in the syrup before eating it.

Ryan finished his second pancake, turning off the stove and sliding the two, warm flapjacks alongside his eggs. He glanced at the syrup before shaking his head, grabbing a fairly brown banana from the fruit bowl on the dining room table. He peeled it quickly, grabbing a knife and dicing it before sliding the bits over his pancakes. Perfect.

Michael was already halfway finished by the time Ryan made his; he observed the man with a tilted head as he gave his stomach a few minutes to settle. He moved to the fridge, bending over to search for something to drink that wasn't water. "I've got soda, and red bull..and uh, apple juice. What do you want?"

"Water is fine," Ryan shrugged, "At least yours doesn't taste like something dead was soaking in it for three days." He took a bite of his pancakes, which were actually fairly good, to his surprise. So were the eggs.

Michael grabbed a dr.pepper from the fridge for himself and made a glass of water; adding two pieces of ice to it before sliding it over to the man. He popped the tab of his soda, taking a swig of it.

"How's your foot," Ryan asked, nodding to the appendage and taking another bite of his food. Michael seemed to having a much easier time moving around than yesterday.

"It's better, doesn't hurt as much." Michael shrugged, leaning up against the counter and taking another bite of his food.

Ryan hummed, staring at Michael with piercingly blue eyes. Once again, he didn't know quite what to say, and so lapsed back into relatively contented silence.

Michael slid his plate into the sink, turning on the water to rinse down the sticky substance. "How's your neck?" He mused, quirking a smile at the man.

"Better," Ryan said with a quirk of his lips, "My back's still a bit sore though."

"I'll give you a massage after breakfast, if you want." Michael mused; drying off his plate and standing on his tip toes to put the plate back in the cabinet.

"Sounds good," Ryan smiled, letting his eyes trail over the strip of skin that had been exposed when Michael stood on his tip toes and finished off the last of his eggs. He rinsed his plate, sliding past the younger man to get to the sink.

Michael grinned back, chugging down the rest of his soda as he waited for Ryan to finish cleaning. He threw the empty can in the trash; running a hand through his curls before meandering back into the living room.

Ryan dried his plate and put it away, ambling into the living room and collapsing on the couch with a smirk. He rolled over onto his stomach, settling his chin on his arms and shooting Michael a grin.

Michael smiled back before moving to position himself to sit on Ryan's lower back; leaning forward to nip playfully at the back of the man's neck. He leaned back then, letting the palms of his hands dig into his shoulder blades; massaging out the muscles for him.

Ryan almost groaned at the sensation, settling himself further into couch as Michael relieved every drop of tension in his back. It was amazing, really, what the warm weight of the younger man on his back, combined with his utterly magic fingers, could do to him. When Michael dug his hands into another particularly tense spot, Ryan actually did let out a slight moan.

Michael let out a laugh at Ryan's moan, but continued his motions of squeezing the man's muscles. He let his hands trail lower, wiggling his hips backwards so he slid lower down and could correctly reach the man's lower back; fingers pushing down before sliding underneath his shirt.

"Okay, wait," Ryan said, reaching down to awkwardly tug at the corners of his shirt. He gave up momentarily; trying to remove it at this odd angle was nearly impossible.

Michael huffed before sliding off of the man's back and waiting for him to get it off fully. He crossed his arms over his chest; fully content to just observe the man for a moment.

Ryan rolled over, managing to pull his shirt over his head and tossing it away randomly. He sat up fully, grabbing Michael's wrists and trying to pull the younger man into his lap, a devilish smirk crossing his features.

Michael chuckled but let Ryan tug him into his lap. "I thought your back hurt." Michael mused, sliding his hands down the front of Ryan's chest and raising an eyebrow at him.

"I think you fixed that," Ryan murmured, pulling the man into a slow, deep kiss. He slid his hands around Michael's back, securing the man loosely in place.

Michael kissed back harsher, letting his hands rest on Ryan's thighs to support his weight slightly; he let his teeth nip lightly at Ryan's lips. He avoided the need to grind down unto the man, hating his cracked ribs more and more by the second.

 

"You know," Ryan said, taking Michael's lower lip in between his teeth and nipping at it slightly, "I said I couldn't fuck you… I didn't say I wouldn't do this," he grinned, snaking on hand in between them to palm at the front of Michael's boxers.

"Ah-shit." Michael muttered, forehead instantly falling unto Ryan's shoulder. He couldn't help his hips bucking up into the touch, eyes shut tightly as the arousal spiked through him and his dick grew harder. Michael groaned inwardly at his own submission.

Ryan pressed the heal of his palm against Michael harder, rocking it against the front of the man's boxers and drinking in the sounds he elicited from the man. He traced the outline of Michael's cock with a finger, pausing at the elastic waistband momentarily.

Michael was all gasps and whimpers as Ryan touched him, hands gripping tighter against the man's thighs when he slowed his touch to only one finger. "Fuck, Ryan... c'mon." Michael whined childishly, pushing his hips forward to prove his point.

"Say please," Ryan murmured, enjoying the desperate way the other man bucked against him. Complete and utter control, that was the name of the game.

Michael held back the immediate response of 'please' that came to him, biting on his lip instead. His hips still rocked against the man, but otherwise he quieted down. If Ryan wasn't going to touch him, fine; he could handle that.

Ryan made a disappointed face, withdrawing his hand from between them. Instead, he let it play over Michael's shirt, brushing lightly against the man's nipples and tracing the outline of his collar bone. Ryan leaned in, kissing Michael's neck just hard enough to tease, but not enough to leave anymore bruises on the purplish skin.

Michael whined at the removal of Ryan's hand, only to let out another breathy groan when Ryan kissed at his neck. He knew what the man wanted and knew the challenge was upon him, he wasn't going to ask; he refused. "Ah.." He shifted his knees slightly, hips circling once.

"You're just hurting yourself, you know," Ryan whispered, nipping at his jawline, "What've you got to lose? A little pride? It'll be worth it," this last was a low growl, and the older man pulled back, making sure Michael saw the predatory look in his eyes.

Michael could tell his will power was fading by the time Ryan ended his sentence, eyes meeting Ryan's; he shook his head. "Don't need to ask.." Michael practically whined, it was more of an attempt to reason with himself than Ryan.

 

"Don't you?" Ryan quirked his lips. It was utterly enjoyable seeing the man break down before his eyes, dismantling him with pleasure rather than pain. He slid a hand under Michael's shirt, idly stroking the skin, touches almost cruel in their gentleness.

"No." Michael hissed back, though his resolve broke when Ryan's hand touched against his skin. "Fine, fuckin' fine. Please. Happy?" Michael grunted out, hand grabbing at Ryan's wrist to tug him lower.

"Very," Ryan purred, slipping his hand underneath the elastic of Michael's boxers, languidly stroking the man, as he kissed tantalizingly at his skin. It was slow and soft, and would have been considered almost gentle if it hadn't been for the way Ryan stopped his ministrations every few seconds, waiting for Michael to let out a groan or a plea.

Michael let his head loll back, shuddering at the feeling of Ryan's hand. Michael was pissed by the time he realized that Ryan was working him up just to stop every few seconds, his groans of frustration getting increasingly irritated as he couldn't manage to reach anywhere near his peak. "Fucking, stop that." Michael hissed once Ryan did it again, his tone was commanding and irritated, though he felt like he couldn't be farther out of control than he was right now.

"Only because you asked so nicely," Ryan mock pouted, catching Michael's lips in a kiss as he picked up his pace, swiping his thumb over the head of his cock and sliding his tongue into the other man's mouth.

Michael bucked his hips up, groaning into Ryan's mouth as he let the man's tongue wander around his own mouth. He let his hands trail up higher on Ryan's thighs, popping open the button of his jeans and grinding his hand roughly against the man's lap.

Ryan let out a slight moan; he'd been so focused on teasing Michael he hadn't noticed his own cock grow hard in his jeans. The feeling of Michael's palm grinding roughly against was absolutely /delicious/, and Ryan canted his hips upwards into the feeling.

Michael smirked, pulling away from the man's lips to kiss at his ear lightly. "Hmm, tables have turned." Michael challenged playfully, pulling Ryan's zipper down and continuing the rough touches to his dick.

"Have they?" Ryan panted, practically sure that Michael would never 'torture' him as cruelly as he'd done to the other man. Michael was too impulsive, too brash, and not one for long, teasing plans, while Ryan was the opposites. That, the older man mused, keeping up his quick strokes, was probably what made them work so well together.

"Y-yeah." Michael tried, breathless thanks to Ryan's quick strokes. He thrust up, bucking against Ryan's hand. He attempted to tease back, sliding his hand under Ryan's pants and giving a stroke. "Say please?" Michael quipped, it was more of a plea in and of itself really, but he didn't assume Ryan would give in.

Ryan leaned in to whisper the word in Michael's ear: "Please." He said it in such a low, guttural tone that it sounded more like a lewd command rather than a plea. He increased his pace, strokes becoming almost rough as he swept his thumb over the head of Michael's dick.

Michael bucked at the words, pressing his forehead against Ryan's and gripping at Ryan's pants and boxers to tug them down as much as possible given the position they were in. Once he found that they were sucessfully low enough he wrapped his hand around the man's cock, trying to keep up the pace Ryan had on him. Michael could feel the shivers falling through his body, hips shaking as they bucked. He was getting too close to the edge too fast. "Ah, shit...Ryan..fuck..fuck."

"Go on," Ryan smirked, rolling his hips upwards. Heat was coiling low in the pit of his stomach, but damned if he came before Michael, "Do it." He pulled the man into another open mouthed kiss, moaning slightly at the feeling of Michael's hands on him.

Michael kissed back harshly, pulling away to gasp as he came. "Ryan! Ah, fuck.." He moaned lewdly, biting his lip in a vain attempt to quiet himself down; he only managed in splitting open his lip. He tried to keep up his pace on Ryan, edging the man forward as well despite his body sloping forward in pleasure.

Ryan groaned, pulling his hands away from Michael and gripping the couch as he came, vaguely aware of the white stain he left on the leather. He threw his head back, letting his hips roll up one last time as Michael milked his orgasm from him. Then it was over, and Ryan collapsed, back hitting the couch and sighing.

Michael slid off of Ryan, aftershocks of pleasure still causing him to shake slightly. "So..that was a thing." Michael muttered, turning his head to glance over at the man.

"A good thing… definitely a good thing," Ryan breathed, flashing him a tired grin, "At least it was for me. Are you going to start freaking out about 'being a whore' again?" The words were gently teasing, but with slight concern palpable behind them.

"No." Michael shook his head, moving to lay on his stomach beside Ryan; nuzzling his face into the man's crook of his shoulder. "It was good for me too, fuck whatever Geoff thinks." He slid his hand along the man's chest gently.

Ryan winced slightly when Michael burrowed into his shoulder; the younger man had obviously forgotten his bullet wound. But Michael shifted to the side, and Ryan relaxing, enjoying the feeling of Michael's skin against his, mimicking the man by snaking his hand up the back of Michael's shirt and rubbing his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are still so many adventures to be had with this story, and I can't explain to you all how much fun it has been to share! I don't have an estimate for how long this story is going to be, but there's still so much to edit. (not to mention more storylines and whatnot.)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! (It's a personal favorite of mine, notverified.)
> 
> Let us know what you thought!


	14. Chapter 14

Michael sat up momentarily to tug off the shirt; he was sweaty and his ribs were starting to ache again; the material getting too constricting. He let his body fall back near Ryan's burrowing back into the spot and lifting a leg to rest against Ryan's. "Ryan?" He murmured quietly.

"Hmm?" the older man raised an eyebrow, moving his hand up to stroke Michael's hair.

"What's the kinkiest sex you've had?" Michael asked curiously, he knew it was an odd question but given Ryan's record for weird shit, the man had to have some interesting stories.

Ryan chuckled at the question, "You'll have to give me a minute to think about that… Why do you want to know?" He was already running through his memories, tucking a few away for further evaluation. He almost snickered; it was like some sort of 10- point system for kinky sex, and Michael barely even fit on the scale.

"Just wondering, you sort of seem like the guy who'd be into some really weird shit." Michael muttered, kissing at the man's neck lovingly; enjoying the warmth against his lips.

"Hmm… There was an ex-girlfriend who liked to put on a leash and act like a dog," Ryan mused, "But if you're asking about what I'm into?" He smirked, lazy and predatory like a lioness after a kill, "Blood, mostly."

"No kidding? What'd she do like bark and shit? I mean, a cat I get... but a dog?" Michael could feel the giggles as they fell from his mouth, he glanced at him then; quirking his head to the side. "Blood?"

Ryan shrugged; he wasn't sure quite how to explain it, especially without seeming like the murderous psychopath he most definitely was. "Part of it's… control. Having complete and utter control over someone, dismantling them piece by piece: it's intoxicating, really. But the other part's the simple aesthetic of it… It's… an /art form/," Ryan tried. "Just where to cut and carve skin to make the prettiest wounds, where it will make them scream," he was almost glassy eyed at the thoughts, hand still stroking gently over Michael's hair.

Michael propped himself up on his elbows slightly, watching Ryan talk about it was oddly fascinating. He should be scared; realistically, he should be uncomfortable with the thought of Ryan carving into him, but he only found it oddly alluring. "Is that why you like torturing people so much?"

"Exactly," Ryan felt his lips twitch into a smile, glad that Michael wasn't utterly scared by the idea. "It's not about sex; it's about power… and blood. Not that sex takes away from it in the least." He traced a finger over the younger man's skin, "I could give you the prettiest scars," he mused, "Not now though. Like I said, I like my toys unbroken." He pressed a kiss to the top of Michael's forehead, the innocence of the gesture in stark contrast with their discussion.

Michael shivered, feeling hypnotised by Ryan's words. He smirked at the affection, hands moving to lace into Ryan's hair and bringing their lips together gently. "How many people have been into that exactly? Letting you cut them up and everything?"

Ryan quirked his lips, "You'd be surprised how many people enjoy being tied up, spanked, ordered around, and what have you, but are scared of a little blood. It makes things seems real, actually dangerous rather than just a game of pretend… But that's what I like about it," he smiled fondly, as if reminiscing about an old friend. "Anyways, to answer your question: one. One person."

Michael observed Ryan's lips as he talked, his hand hesitantly trailing circles along the,man's chest. "Was it nice?" Michael mused curiously.

Ryan shrugged noncommittally, "It was and it wasn't. We didn't quite want… the same things." Victoria had wanted to die, he had wanted to carve pretty patterns into her flesh. She'd convinced him it was a mutually beneficial relationship, but really, he was more her tool than anything else. So he'd cut a sanguine smile into her face after he'd finished, and strung her from the rafters. Thoughts of that night still made him shiver, partly in pleasure, partly in… something else.

Michael made a sound of understanding, but didn't push for any more information. He pressed his mouth just under Ryan's jaw, kissing the skin there gently. He was a little taken aback by how open Ryan was choosing to be with him, but couldn't say he minded it at all. His fingers tapped aimlessly against the man's skin as he cuddled closer.

"What about you?" Ryan raised an eyebrow, "Can't imagine you're much for experimenting…"

Michael let out a laugh, shaking his head and letting his curls bounce slightly. "No, not really. One night stands don't really leave room for kinks." He hummed lowly in his throat, making a face of concentration. "There was one guy I knew though, had a thing for playing daddy." Michael shrugged nonchalantly.

Ryan hummed lightly, giving Michael a kiss on the forehead. "Well, I suppose we can figure it out together, then. But for now, I'd like to get cleaned up," he chuckled, motioning to their rather sticky torsos.

Michael let out a groan, the couch was incredibly comfortable and his ribs were starting to tinge painfully. "Uhg, fine." Michael huffed, sitting up gently and rubbing at his eyes.

Ryan got up, letting his jeans fall to the floor and pulling his boxers up over his cock. He tugged at the corners of Michael's stained shirt, trying to tug it over the man's head. "Where's your laundry?"

Michael lifted his arms up so Ryan could pull his shirt off him. "There's a basket in the bedroom." Michael answered, avoiding the urge to fall back against his couch.

Ryan nodded, walking down the hallway and dropping the soiled clothing into Michael's laundry basket. He took a brief moment to look around at Michael's bedroom. Michael's bedroom was, much like the rest of his house, clean and organized. His bed wasn't nearly as nice as Ryan's, the simplistic wooden frame came with the house and he'd picked up the first pair of sheets he found, a light beige color. The comforter matched them, a few stitched in designs gave it a finished look. His dresser was similar in color to the bed frame, but didn't match exactly; mirror hanging just above it along with a few trinkets including a serrated bladed knife. His first knife, actually. The end tables next to his bed were plain and only sat two plain beige lamps, a phone charger resting on the left one. Michael made his way down the hall sluggishly, patting Ryan's back as he made his way into the connected bathroom. The bathroom was mostly white, and not anywhere near as extravagant as Geoff's; he had a standing shower and a tub in the corner that hadn't been used since he'd moved here. His toothbrush was sitting out, neatly stacked next to his floss and mouthwash.

Ryan leaned against the bathroom's doorway, observing the man's sluggish movements. He felt rather disheveled; he knew his hair must be sticking up at odd angles from when Michael ran his hands through it, and there was semen coating his stomach. All in all, it was a rather grimy feeling.

Michael leaned into the shower, turning on the hot water and moving back to grab two towels from the closet. He hung them over the shower wall; checking the temperature and deciding that it was good enough he slipped his boxers down his hips and offered a glance back to Ryan. "Are you gonna let me use all the hot water or are you gonna join?"

Ryan chuckled, removing his boxers and kicking them to the side. He eyed Michael's battered body with interest, clicking his tongue in distaste at the large, messy bruise that covered his side. He was pleased to note that his work from the other day, however, was still there, branding the man's chest and thighs with lovely purple markings. He slipped behind Michael, kissing one of the hickeys on his shoulder and offering the man a smirk.

Michael tilted his head slightly, allowing Ryan room to kiss before tugging the man further into the shower; letting the hot water cascade down his body. His muscles were soothed instantly, he leant his head back and splashed the water unto his face; enjoying the fresh clean feeling of the sweat being washed away.

Michael's shower, while definitely not cold, wasn't the scorching hot temperature that Ryan preferred. He hummed discontentedly at the way the water gently washing away the sweat and jizz coating his body, rather than burning it, along with a thin layer of his skin, away.

 

Michael turned around to glance at him, arching an eyebrow up in question to his hum. "What's up?"

"Your shower’s too cold," Ryan smirked down at him, shrugging. He reached around Michael, grabbing the bar of soap sitting on the small ledge behind him and working it into a lather between his palms.

"You can turn it up if you want." Michael muttered, sliding his hands across Ryan's stomach and along his sides. It was absentminded touches, just light fingertips dancing across the man's abdomen and ribs.

Ryan smiled at the touches, returning them in kind, letting soapy fingers play across Michael's bruises just light enough not to hurt. Reached behind Michael to turn up the heat, Ryan couldn't help but note how intimate the situation. There was nothing sexual about it, just warming water and human contact. The newness of it made his stomach shift uncomfortably.

Michael giggled slightly at the soft feather light touches tickling his stomach; he stretched around Ryan to grab the shampoo before pouring some into his hand and working it into Ryan's hair. He let his nails scrape against the man's scalp gently.

Ryan smiled slightly, trying not to let his discomfort show in his face. He'd never done this before, never showered with someone, talked to them so… openly. He was losing control, he decided, and had to play his cards much closer to his chest with Michael from now on. The man was dangerously addicting, and he knew that a new itch could very easily from underneath his skin. He didn't need another addiction.

Michael pulled Ryan forward slightly so that the soap washed from his hair before pouring some into the palm of his hand and working it into his own curls. He was oblivious to the man's discomfort, focusing instead on the comforting gestures and the tameness of the situation.

Ryan ran his palms up and down Michael's back absently, schooling his face into a calm, neutral expression. He reached up to assist Michael in cleaning his curly hair, letting his nails scrape lightly over the man's scalp. /Observe, catalog/, he scolded himself, /Don't get attached./

Michael closed his eyes at the feeling of hands massaging into his hair, he brought his hands down to rest against Ryan's hips; practically purring in contentment at the feeling of nails against his scalp. "Hmm." Michael hummed lightly, eyes blinking up to glance at Ryan's, letting a grin form across his face.

Ryan let a smile curl around his lips, tilting Michael's head back to press a slow kiss against his lips. He let the water rinse out the man's hair, letting his hands play over slick, wet skin. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine it was blood that covered Michael from head to toe.

Michael kissed back easily, playfully nipping at Ryan's bottom lip before sliding a hand behind him and shut off the quickly cooling water. He stretched up to grab the towels, shoving one into Ryan's chest before winding his own up to dry at his soaked hair.

Ryan slipped out of his fantasies, grabbing the towel and drying himself off quickly. He stepped out of the shower, wrapping the cloth around his waist and picking up his boxers; they were still rather sticky. "Mind if I use your laundry? I don't think you have any clothes that would fit me; you're too skinny," he teased, tossing Michael a grin.

"Yeah, that's fine." Michael chuckled. "It's just down the hall and to the right." Michael slid his towel around his waist once his hair was somewhat dry and made his way into his bedroom to grab out some new clothes. He opened his drawer, pulling out a pair of boxers and sweats but didn't bother putting on another constricting shirt.

Ryan walked to living room purposefully, picking up his discarded shirt and jeans, before throwing them, along with his boxers, into the washing machine. It wasn't one of the overly complex ones, and it only took Ryan a moment to select the correct spin cycle and pour in a capful of detergent. The smell of the liquid reminded him of Michael, and he vowed to get himself a bottle, if just to quiet his urgings towards the man.

Michael tugged the sweats up over his hips, stretching his arms over his head and popping the sore muscles. He walked down the hall, leaning against the frame of the door and let himself observe Ryan clad in only a towel, it was certainly a sight to see; the man's back rippling as he moved. The wound on his shoulder was still red and a little opened; but it seemed to be getting better.

Ryan stretched, turning to see Michael standing in the doorway. He quirked an eyebrow at the other man, walking close enough to trace over his cracked rib. "Does it hurt still?"

Michael's breath hitched at the contact slightly, brown eyes blinking up to meet Ryan's. "Not as much as before." Michael answered vaguely, the night of rest had helped a lot and the painkillers were definitely doing their job.

"Good," Ryan said, eyes sweeping over the discoloration, "You said the gang boss did this to you? It's quite nasty…" The mark was precise; the work of someone trained in the art of causing injuries, but a bit sloppy around the edges. Emotion, Ryan guessed. It was what tripped most people of in life.

"Yeah he does martial arts or some shit." Michael mused, shrugging his shoulders. "Probably my fault, I was bragging about what I did to his boyfriends."

Ryan raised an eyebrow coolly, "And that would be what, exactly?"

"Not much, really." Michael furrowed his brows, as if trying to remember for himself. "Just had to rough them up a little for the camera, so I cut at their faces a bit."

Ryan snorted, "Amateur." He almost gave Michael a playful kiss on the nose, before remembering himself, running a hand over the man's cheek instead. That, at least, could be taken as predatory rather than affectionate.

"I wasn't trying to torture them." Michael hissed out almost defensively. He hadn't been, or at least that was what he'd been telling himself since it happened. It wasn't the first time he'd roughed someone up for a camera shot, it wasn't the first time he's hurt someone; but there was just something eerie about this time that made him feel unsure.

Ryan hummed in a dissatisfied manner, "That's not the point. One day I'll teach you how to rough people up correctly, if you'd like. There's nothing more insulting than seeing someone fuck up your art form," the man grinned toothily, motioning for Michael to follow him as he walked back to the living room.

Michael squinted his eyes at the man, letting out a huff and a quiet mutter of "I didn't fuck it up." Never the less, he followed the man back to the living room and plopped on the couch dramatically. "Can you get me some more painkillers?" Michael asked, pointing towards the bottle on the floor; realistically he could've rolled over and reached it but he was lazy and didn't want to stretch for it.

Ryan rolled his eyes, but passed him the bottle, sitting down next to Michael as he did so. He chuckled slightly, noticing the white stain on the leather. "Well, hopefully that's not ruined."

"It's an ugly couch anyway." Michael shrugged, popping the pills into his mouth and moving to lay his head in Ryan's lap. He stretched his arms up, tucking them underneath his head and grinning up at the blue eyed man.

Ryan smiled thoughtfully down at the man, stroking a thumb along his jawline, "About what we were talking about before… Why were you interested?"

"Uh, I don't know." Michael made a face of indifference, leaning into the man's touch.

Ryan stopped his stroking abruptly, instead gripping Michael's chin firmly in one hand, forcing the man to look up at him. "Really? You seemed… extremely curious." His voice was neutral, but inside he was alight with the idea that Michael might allow him to fulfill his itch, preferably without murdering someone.

 

Michael met his eyes, breath hitching slightly at the firm grip. "I guess I was just wondering how it all played out...cause I don't think I'd mind it so much." Michael mumbled shakily, gnawing on his lip and trying to avoid Ryan's eyes.

Ryan felt his lips curl into a slow smile, bending down to kiss Michael forcefully. He briefly allowed his imagination to fill with a variety of scenarios: Michael tied up, bleeding, screaming… before emptying the thoughts from his head, so as to allow himself to remain detached. And yet, he couldn't help the fact that his heart was beating faster at the mere possibility.

Michael lifted up slightly to kiss Ryan back, hand locking onto the man's neck to force him closer. "Well, you seem to like that idea then.." Michael mused, pulling away to take a breather.

"Yes," Ryan panted, letting his eyes roam over Michael's bare chest as if the older man were about to devour him whole, "Definitely." He didn't say the thoughts that were really whirring through his mind: that he murdered people for a living just to get the itching out from under his fingertips; that he'd wanted this- obsessed over this- since his parents' deaths; that ever since Victoria, the feeling had kept growing stronger and stronger. He said nothing, hoping the way he'd kissed Michael had conveyed at least a fraction of his ardor.

Michael eyes darkened as Ryan's eyes scanned over his chest; he avoided whining under the gaze and instead brought his mouth back to Ryan's greedily. He wasn't sure why Ryan's reaction was making him genuinely happy; goosebumps breaking out along his skin as his teeth bumped Ryan's.

Their kiss was interrupted by a rather loud beeping from down the hall; Ryan's clothes had finished with their spin cycle. The older man blinked, slowly gathering his wits and giving Michael a last kiss on the lips. "I should probably… get that," he breathed.

Michael rolled his eyes but moved to sit up to allow Ryan to grab his laundry. "Yeah, yeah." Michael chuckled, waving his hand uncaringly.

Ryan transferred his soaking wet clothes to the dryer and set it to spin for a cycle, sitting back down on the couch next to Michael with his toweled lap free if the younger man wanted to lay his head down again. "I do have to go home eventually," Ryan murmured, though without conviction.

Michael gladly laid back down, hands going to reposition themselves behind his head again. He cocked his head at Ryan at the words, nodding gently. "If you want." Though his heart stung painfully at the thought of going to bed alone tonight, it wasn't as if he wasn't used to it; of course. He wasn't sure why he felt such an attachment to Ryan, but he really didn't want to see him go home. He looked away then, focusing instead on the blinds of the window behind his tv.

"I don't have to go /now/," Ryan smiled wryly, brushing a hand through Michael's curls, "I just have… somewhere to be." That somewhere was the older man's favorite cafe; he'd promised himself he'd revisit its new chef and take a cut of his earnings. A man had to eat, after all, and Geoff rarely needed his… skill set.

Michael was thrown off, whereas Ryan sounded like he was trying to get away from him; the affection was still there. It didn't make sense to him, he couldn't read the man at all and it was starting to make an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. He could feel his breathing start to speed up as he moved to sit up on his knees quickly, he nearly fell off the couch as he did so; his ribs tingling painfully as he stared at Ryan in confusion. "What does that...?"

Ryan raised his eyebrows at the other man's sudden distress, "It means I'm going to run an errand. A business errand, to be more specific. Drug dealers don't intimidate themselves…" He didn't make a move to grab Michael, despite the man's teetering position on the couch's edge.

"Oh." Michael just felt stupid now, furrowing his brows and nodding. He relaxed visibly, breathing slowing down as he moved to stand up. "I need water." He murmured, "Do you want anything?"

"Water, if you please," the man smiled up at Michael, a puzzled expression still on his face. With Michael out of his lap, he crossed one leg over the other, stretching his arms across the back of the couch lazily: the picture of relaxation.

Michael nodded quickly, turning around and moving into the kitchen. He mentally cursed himself for being so jittery all the fucking time, grabbing out two glasses and setting them on the counter. He opened his freezer, putting a handful of ice in each of them before turning on the tap and filling them with water. He sat them on the counter for a second, rubbing his hands over his face roughly in an attempt to calm down before picking them up and making his way back over to Ryan. He stood in front of him, arm outstretched to hand over the glass of water.

Ryan took the glass with a "Thank you" and began to drink it greedily. He hadn't realized how thirsty he was until the water was presented to him. He put down the half empty glass with a sigh, motioning for Michael to sit down once more.

"Sure." Michael nodded, moving to sit down next to Ryan. He sipped at his own drink, sitting cross legged on the couch.

Ryan let his gaze drift over the room, noting the console underneath the TV and the cabinets that, in all likelihood, held a multitude of video games. The older man let his mind drift, mentally cataloging each room in the house. He stopped at one particular memory: the knife in Michael's bedroom. He remembered it being a wicked, serrated thing and Ryan briefly wondered what Michael needed it for. 

 

Michael shifted uncomfortably, eyes starting to close sleepily as he willed himself to stay awake. At least he was sitting up now, he didn't doubt that he'd be asleep within seconds if he was laying in Ryan's lap.

Ryan shifted, giving Michael a slow kiss on the lips, before standing with the pretense of checking on his clothes. They weren't dry yet, he knew, but he wanted a closer look at that knife.

Michael kissed back lightly, watching Ryan stand and curling himself closer into the couch. His eyes were drooping lazily now, a tired yawn making it's way through his mouth.

Ryan ambled into Michael's room, picking up the knife on the dresser and examining the serrated blade. It was wickedly sharp, and reminded the man of something ancient and tribal. The feeling made his toes curl.

It didn't take Michael long to fall into the realms of sleep, snuggled contently into the coziness of the couch. He twitched lightly in his sleep, breath slowing peacefully.

Ryan ran a finger over the blade, nicking it on one of the sharp edges. He grinned, sucking on the injured digit with a satisfied expression. When he heard the dryer hum its last spin cycle, Ryan took the blade with him. He slipped on his clothes, grabbing his wallet and phone from the top of the washer, and ambled into the living room, swinging the knife by his side in a practiced manner. He wanted to ask Michael a few questions about it, but decided to belay them when he saw the younger man curled up against the couch, breathing steadily. Ryan chuckled, placing the knife on the dining room table and scrawling a quick note before he left: "Nice knife. Mind if I try it out sometime?"

Ray wasn't exactly thrilled about finally leaving his apartment. He'd been stuck with the flu and had only just managed to recover from the exhausting sickness. He'd decided to go out and grab a burger before making the rounds around town and getting an update or two; ultimately he felt out of the loop and he decided it was time he fix that. He was walking along the sidewalk, trying to ignore the heat of the Los Santos sun beating down on his black t-shirt. He was only a few blocks away from a food stop and was anxiously waiting to actually get some food in his stomach he could keep down.

Ryan entered the diner, smiling at the familiar 'ding' of the bell. The waitress on duty looked up, her bored expression freezing on her face as soon as she saw Ryan. "M-Mr. Haywood! Uhm, what can I get you today?"

The man smiled at her cordially, "I'd like to speak with the new chef again, if I may. What was his name?" 

"Max Green…" the waitress was struggling to retain her hostess-like mannerism, but to Ryan she just looked like a deer in the headlights.

"Perfect. I think I'll have a ribeye steak sandwich while I wait. I'll just seat myself."

Ray stuck his hands into his pockets as he walked, glancing at the diner and shrugging; it seemed good enough to him. He shoved himself past a group of guys, only laughing when they uttered insults at him. He opened the door to the restaurant, frowning as he noticed Ryan before his smile broke out and he tapped the man on the shoulder. "Hey Ryan." He noticed the brief look of relief on the waitress' face.

Ryan raised an eyebrow at the man, "Hey Ray. I thought you were sick. Trying to get out of work again?" He smirked, motioning the man to follow him to his favorite booth in the corner.

"I was, I think I blazed too hard. Feeling good now though, well..except for this fucking heat." Ray kept conversation easily, following the man back to the booth. Ray never really had a problem with Ryan, besides the fact that his methods of interrogation were a little weird; but he just assumed it wasn't his place to judge. Whether or not he agreed with Ryan's morals, well that was irrelevant. He wasn't sure he'd want to end up at a dinner party at the man's house, but then again Ray didn't really like dinner parties at anyone's house. "So what's been going on lately? Anything exciting?"

Ryan's lips quirked into a secretive smile as he handed Ray the menu he'd snagged, leaning back in the booth himself, "Plenty. Michael got kidnapped, and apparently he and Geoff had quite the lovers' quarrel."

Ray's eyebrows raised as he took the menu. "Well shit." Ray really had missed a lot. "Do you know what the fight was about?"

"Me," Ryan said simply. He wasn't quite sure if Michael would want Ray to know about their… exploits, but no doubt Geoff was drunk and yelling it to the heavens. He was that kind of person… Ryan curled his lip and the thought.

Ray stared at Ryan for a few seconds, blinking as he tried to figure out exactly what the man meant by that. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion at him. "Okay, now I'm curious." It wasn't a demand that the man tell him, he could always call Michael later and find out. Michael tended to tell Ray what he kept secret from others, and he was pretty sure the only reason Geoff knew Michael was orphaned was because he'd checked the records that one time.

Ryan shrugged noncommittally, "Geoff doesn't take too kindly to other people playing with his toys." The way the corner of his mouth twitched up into a brief smirk when he said it made his meaning all too clear.

 

"Oh...oh." Ray's eyes widened as the realization set in. "Can't say I saw that one coming..."

"Mm," Ryan said ambiguously. He wasn't really the gossipy type. But, in the circumstances he was willing to share at least a little, "Geoff found out, this is after he's been kidnapped and beaten half to death, called him a whore, and kicked him out of his apartment. At least that's the impression I got."

Ray gaped at him, frowning at his words. "Holy shit, is he alright? Like, I mean obviously it's hard to be okay after that... but like- fuck dude.." Ray sat back against the booth, shaking his head in amazement; that was a really low blow from Geoff, though he was sure Michael had his side and Geoff had his; but still.

"He's got a cracked rib, a black eye, and a bullet wound in his ankle, but otherwise, he's fine. He was doing much better when I left." The nervous waitress from before came to take their drink orders, and Ryan waited for her to leave before he continued, "Emotionally, though? I'm not sure. Very clingy, but that might just be Michael."

Ray nodded, asking the waitress for a coke politely before turning his attention back to the conversation. "Well, it's not his first time being kicked out of a second home; I'm sure he's probably just pretty numb to that now. But the clingliness is probably just Michael."

Ryan tilted his head to the side, biting off the word's "It's cute" before they left his mouth. As much as Ryan enjoyed being in control, having someone dependent on him for anything more than life was not something that he'd found particularly attractive before. However much he was trying to prevent it, Ryan was becoming addicted to Michael Jones…

Ray glanced up at the waitress as she put their drinks down, taking a sip before ordering a bacon cheeseburger. Once she left he turned back to Ryan. "So who kidnapped Michael?"

"One of the local gang leaders. Oum, I think. He heads RWBY. They're the ones who fucked with me and Michael last heist, so someone, probably Jack, decided it would be a good idea to kidnap his boyfriends for ransom," Ryan took a sip of his water, "There was some deal where Michael roughed them up, and so Oum sent one of his girls after him. They cracked his ribs, negotiated, and traded."

"Huh, interesting." Ray murmured, absentmindedly stirring his drink with his straw. "Man you miss a lot when you're sick."

Ryan shrugged, "It's been a busy few days. Hopefully things will die down, and I can go back to conning money out of dealers."

Ray nodded, barely addressing the waitress when she set his food down, immediately going to take a bite of the burger. "So has Geoff apologized to Michael yet?"

"No," Ryan secretly hoped he wasn't going to. It was a lot easier to control somebody when someone else wasn't trying to do the same. He bit into his sandwich with relish, nodding in satisfaction when he noted that the meat was, in fact, rare this time. "I don't know when he'd do it, either. I don't think Michael would pick up the phone, even if Geoff wasn't too chicken shit to call him."

"Sort of surprises me, Geoff's usually begging for forgiveness a day after he gets pissed." Ray muttered, but shrugged. He took a sip of his coke, washing down the burger easily. "So you and Michael, was it like a one time thing or?"

"Does it count as a one time thing if you do it twice?" Ryan quirked an eyebrow. He wasn't used to talking with Ray like this; usually it was masks and shitty costumes, if anything. In any case, the younger man had always been a little afraid of Ryan's… interrogation tactics.

Ray laughed, shaking his head. "No, I don't think it does." He took another bite of his burger, enjoying the savory taste of it before wiping his hands on a napkin.

"In that case, no, it was not a one time thing," Ryan said, sipping his water cooly. "Michael will probably tell you all about it; if you're still 'better friends,' that is."

"He probably will." Ray chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. "I think this has been enough fresh air for me for at least a good seven days though." He slipped his wallet out and sat down ten dollars before moving to get up from the table. "It was good talking to you, Ryan. Tell Michael I said to feel better."

"Will do," Ryan said, even though he wasn't sure when he'd see the other man again. He finished off his sandwich, leaving a bill to pay for his own food before ambling towards the kitchen.

Michael was woken up by the loud ringing of his phone, he huffed in frustration at the rude awakening but moved to get up anyway. He checked the number, noting that it was Ray's he pressed the answer button and slid it against his ear. 

"What?" Michael demanded sleepily, moving to check the kitchen table and furrowing his brows at the note below his knife. 

"You and Ryan? Holy shit dude!" Ray practically yelled as he made his way back to his house. 

"What?" Michael asked again, "Who told you?"

"Ryan, I saw him at a diner; we had dinner, anyway. Holy fuck! You and Ryan." Ray hissed. 

"Uhg, yes okay. What about us?" Michael rolled his eyes, moving back to lay on the couch.

"It's just surprising is all, when did it happen?" Ray asked curiously.

"I don't know, a few days ago. it just sort of fucking happened, and it was actually really good." Michael muttered.

"Damn, man.. and like how creepy is he exactly?" Ray asked, fully prepared to take the gossipy details. 

"I mean, not too creepy; he doesn't make me uncomfortable or anything." Michael answered back; laughing at the fact that Ray sounded like a forty year old woman talking details about someone's sex life, all whispers and giggles.

"Well, that's good... and like, you're like really into him?" Ray prompted.

"Yeah..I mean, he's sexy as fuck and damn..I don't know. I guess I am."

"That's good man, I'm happy for you." Ray chimed kindly, "I gotta know though, like what's someone like that into and how're you handling the murder and shit?" 

Michael couldn't help the laugh that fell through him. "He's into blood and shit, and I mean- the same way I always handle Ryan, he's a creepy mother fucker but oddly appealing." 

"Do you guys go on murder dates together?" Ray half-joked. 

"Shut the fuck up, no we do not." Michael rolled his eyes; Ray truly was an asshole. 

"Okay, next question. Seriously, how are you handling everything with Geoff?" Ray's voice went down a pitch, turning from friendly laughter to a calmer, more concerned tone. 

"I don't know, he said it was whorish of me to fuck them both." Michael murmured. 

"He made you walk home with busted ribs and everything?" Ray asked.

"Well; he didn't like tell me to get out, but I wasn't exactly welcome. He practically threw me at Gavin and told him to drive me home." Michael's voice quieted slightly, gnawing on his lip as he remembered the details.

"You didn't let Gav drive you home, did you?" Ray knew Michael too well.

"Fuck no, would you let Gavin drive you anywhere?" Michael chuckled, taking the edge off of the conversation. 

"Good point, but really dude. You're okay?" Ray murmured. 

"It hurts, but Geoff's an asshole. I'll get over it." Michael answered easily.

"Alright, well. To avoid getting sappy on you, let me know if you need anything; I'm only a ring away!" Ray sung the last bit, laughter falling shortly after. 

"Yeah, yeah, go back to your cave and blaze, asshole." Michael muttered back jokingly. He rolled his eyes when Ray hung up, tossing his phone onto the coffee table and stretching out along the couch; tucking his hands under his head.

The new chef- Max- positively froze when Ryan entered the kitchen. He smiled saccharinely at the man, not feeling the need to pick up a knife this time; the chef was shaking like a leaf. "Hey, Max. Remember that deal we discussed a few days ago?" Ryan asked sweetly, "I'm here to collect my part of the bargain."

Max shivered slightly, backing up a few paces until his back hit the counter and the blade man let out a tiny yelp. Ryan waited for him to finish with his hysterics before holding out a hand calmly, "40%. And believe me when I say that I have ways of finding out if you've lied to me. I don't like people lying to me." Max squeaked out something unintelligible, fumbling in his apron pocket for a roll of bills, shoving it at Ryan. "Thank you for your cooperation," Ryan smiled, mentally counting the money.

Good, it looks like he'd actually have enough to pay this month's rent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Wednesday, another update! Hope you guys enjoyed it, let us know what you thought!


	15. Chapter 15

At this point, Geoff didn't know if he was even human anymore. He was just a meat suit filled to the brim with alcohol, regret, and loathing. Staring blankly up at the ceiling, he tried to take another drink of the bottle in his hand. How many had he even had at this point? The few drops of liquid still in the container dribbled out onto his shirt as he gave up halfway through the motion. 

"Fuuuuck," the man groaned, wiping sloppily at the tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. Couldn't he do anything right?

Gavin crossed his arms over his chest as his body leaned against the wall of the hallway; staring down at the man that was /still/ on the couch. He grimaced at the tears, a sympathetic tinge of his heart. "Are you hungry?"

Geoff rolled over, planting his face into the couch. God, he was so fucking tired. Had he even slept at all since Michael left? "I don't know," the tattooed man mumbled, voice muffled by the cushions. He felt pathetic, weak, and two seconds away from calling Michael and blubbering every apology he could think of into the phone.

"Do you want coffee or water?" Gavin asked as he made his way to the kitchen, grabbing the painkillers that were still out since Michael had left. He was sure Geoff probably had one hell of a hangover; and since he was on Geoff recovery duty it was his job to make sure the man wasn't going to do anything too stupid.

"Whiskey. Whiskey sounds good," Geoff almost sniffled. Maybe if he had a bit more alcohol in his system to replace the pounding headache that was splitting his skull open, he might be able to form a coherent thought.

"Water it is." Gavin muttered, grabbing out a glass and filling it. It wasn't like they actually had any whiskey in the house, Geoff had already cleaned through 90% of his stock; there were still a few beers and a little bit of cheap moonshine. He brought the glass to him, shoving two of the pills into his hand as well. "Take those."

Geoff groaned, fumbling the pills and water, but still managing to get them into his mouth and swallow. He curled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and squeezing his eyes shut. Michael, Michael, Michael… the word was branded into his mind, pulsing there like some sort of beautiful curse.

Gavin sighed, patting Geoff's knee gently before moving to sit in the armchair. He leant his elbow on the arm of the chair, chin resting in his palm as he waited patiently for a few moments. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I want him to come back," Geoff murmured, nuzzling his head further into his knees. He felt like a turtle… a drunken, pathetic turtle.

"I know." Gavin answered simply, he really wasn't too great at handling an upset Geoff; that was Jack's forte.

Geoff cracked open one eye, looking blearily up at Gavin, "Should I call him? I should call him." His words were still slightly slurred, and the pain medication wasn't working fast enough. At this point, he wouldn't be surprised if his brain was melting out of his ears.

"Uhm, I don't know... That's your decision Geoff, I called him yesterday; said his ribs were getting better." Gavin was hesitant, would Michael want a call? He doubted it. "Maybe you should sober up a little first."

"'M gonna call him," Geoff muttered, reaching a hand out to grope towards the coffee table. He let out a discontented sound when he couldn't find a phone, holding his hand out towards Gavin instead, wiggling his fingers in a "gimme" gesture.

"Geoff," Gavin warned, he knew if Michael saw it was his number he'd pick up, but he didn't think Michael would be too thrilled when he found out Geoff was the one of the line. "I really think maybe you should give it a few hours, y'know? You're not sober yet."

"I'm never sober," Geoff muttered, continuing to wiggle his fingers. The pulsing of his migraine was more insistent now, and some stupid part of him believed that Michael could soothe it. Really, he just wanted to curl up around the other man and pretend the last few day hadn't happened.

"Fine." Gavin huffed, pulling out his phone and handing it over to Geoff. "Don't say I didn't warn you though."

Geoff dialed Michael's number with practiced ease, despite his drunkenness. He'd knew the man's number by now, given how many times he'd called it. The tattooed man put the phone up to his ear hesitantly, the polyphonic rings only serving to make his headache worse.

Gavin sighed, moving to rest back against the couch. 

Michael had gone back to lazing on the couch after Ray called, turning on the tv and absentmindedly watching some horror movie. He jumped when he heard his phone ring, leaning forward to grab it off the coffee table. He noted Gavin's number before pressing answer and bringing it to his ear with his normal growl of "What?"

"Hey," Geoff breathed. He knew he probably sounded pitiful already, with his slightly slurred voice and the way his sniffles still hadn't quite subsided, but he didn't know what else to say. He wasn't drunk enough to start blubbering out apologies immediately.

"Geoff? Hm, yeah you're gonna have to call back later, baby. I'm all booked for this weekend." Michael seethed into the phone; irritability clearly audible. He had half an urge to slam the phone across the wall, but he wanted to hear what Geoff had to say in response.

"Michael," Geoff chewed his lip, "God, I just- I'm so fucking sorry, okay?" I miss you… I need you… Come back. The words ran through his head like an undertone.

Michael shook his head at the words, running a hand through his curls as he kept silent. Part of him wanted to forgive the older man, just let it go and accept it as Geoff just being angry; but there was a more intense part that was remembering every step home and every minute he was a mess inside his own home; the stinging in his ribs not anywhere near the feeling of absolute betrayal. "I walked home with cracked ribs and an open wound in my leg."

"I told Gavin to drive you- Michael, I didn't…" Want you to get hurt. Geoff had been angry, sure, but he would never purposely injure Michael. No, that would be Ryan. Geoff felt his face harden at the thought.

Michael wished he could put every thought whirling through his mind out there, tell Geoff exactly how much he'd hurt him, tell him exactly why it stung so much, tell him he was a selfish, drunk asshole, that he didn't want to forgive him. He let out a sigh, moving to rub his brow bone with his thumb and forefinger. "Didn't give a shit about me? Yeah, you're right. You didn't."

Geoff could feel himself starting to tear up again, and it sucked. He just wanted to hug Michael, hold him close and tell him that he forgave him. But that probably wasn't the best thing to do right now, not while the man was still angry at him. 

"I care a whole fucking lot about you, you idiot," Geoff muttered.

Michael let out a bitter laugh. "Bullshit." He hissed out, he could practically feel his resolve fading to a lesser degree and he took time to mentally curse his inability to hold a grudge. Geoff deserved this, Michael tried to reassure himself.

"God, I fucking- I love you, you asshole!" Geoff blurted out, before realizing what he'd said. His eyes grew wide and he clamped his mouth shut, desperately trying to convince himself that he hadn't said it. That Michael hadn't heard. That the secret he'd been keeping for /years/ hadn't slipped through his teeth in a drunken stupor. Shit.

"Wh-what?" Michael demanded, shaking his head in shock. This couldn't be happening, his boss didn't just admit his feelings for him. He could feel his hands start to shake and his mouth went dry; how the hell was he supposed to deal with this? Gavin's mouth opened in shock at Geoff; waiting nervously for something else to happen.

 

"I- I didn't… I mean," Geoff stammered, his face growing redder by the second, "I just-" Nope. Nonononono. Fuck. He desperately pressed the "End Call" button, missing a few times before hanging up. He tossed the phone to Gavin, rolling over and burying his face in the back of the couch.

Michael looked down at his phone in concentration, glancing at the ended call announcement. He huffed, tossing his phone aside and bringing his hands up to dig his palms into his eyes. He let his body fall back on the couch, fucking great.

Gavin slid his phone back into his pocket; moving to pat the man's back gently; an attempt at a reassuring gesture.

"Tell me I didn't say that out loud," Geoff whispered, pressing back into the touch. "Please fuckin' tell me that this is a nightmare, tell me this isn't happening…" he pulled his knees into him once more, trying to become as small as possible.

"Geoff, it'll be okay. It's Michael, he's not gonna think any less of you or anything.." Gavin comforted, moving closer to rub his hand along the older man's back. He really wished Jack was here, he really wasn't good at this.

"You just don't /say/ things like that, Gav! I'm fucking- He's gonna-" Geoff began to hyperventilate, his head pounding with a vengeance. Was he still speaking? Sounds were still coming out of his mouth, but damned if they were actually words.

"Geoff, you need to calm down." Gavin murmured as gently as he could, frowning when words started to fumble their way out of his mouth. "Shh, Geoff.. It's okay."

Geoff tried to calm himself, taking in slow, shaky breaths, rolling over to grab at Gavin's hand and pull him closer. He needed physical contact right now. Really, he needed /Michael/ right now, but that obviously wasn't an option.

Gavin slid closer to Geoff, letting his arms wrap around the man. He pressed his face to the top of Geoff's head. "It'll be okay."

Geoff squeezed Gavin's arm tightly, wrapping himself around the other man and pulling him close. He practically nuzzled into Gavin, desperately wishing he could go back in time and punch himself right in the goddamn mouth.

Gavin let the other man embrace him, adjusting slightly to get comfortable. He didn't think Geoff was gonna let go of him anytime soon, so he figured he might as well make sure his foot wasn't going to fall asleep. He wished he could force Michael at Geoff right now, just so that he didn't have to see him so upset anymore.

 

"What am I gonna do?" he whispered into Gavin's t-shirt. He wasn't sure if he was asking the other man or himself, but either way he had no idea. He breathed in Gavin's scent, wrinkling his nose when it wasn't the clean, almost spicy smell he wanted. And of course, Gavin wasn't pale and covered in freckles with a curly mass of hair just perfect for twining your fingers through...

"I-I don't know Geoff..I wish I did." Gavin murmured, Geoff had really gotten himself into quite the position here and Michael was too skittish to not just run away from the entire situation.

"Some help you are…" Geoff muttered, letting his eyes drift closed. He was exhausted...

Gavin picked up the remote from the couch, switching on the tv and lowering it to a dull volume; as to not disturb the nearly sleeping man. He was thankful at least that he'd finally get some sort of sleep.

 

Three. It had been three days, and Ryan still couldn't stop thinking about it. He couldn't read his books; they only served to remind him. He couldn't play video games; every splash of deep, ruby color on screen would make him flashback to that conversation. Even his knives- no, /especially/ his knives- were no help. Ryan cleaned them obsessively, trailing the point of each blade over his palm in sheer, blissful imagination. He even tacked a steak to the wall at one point, carving into the raw meat with a purpose… but it wasn't the same.  
Now, he paced instead, grabbing the shoebox from under his bed and spreading the photos out before him. /Gorgeous/... no matter who they were, they always looked gorgeous when he was done with them.

Michael stuck his hands into his pockets as he walked down the streets of Los Santos, sporting a pair of dark wash jeans and a black tank; he matched in perfectly well to the assholes that often surrounded the streets. He was thankful that his wounds were healing well, allowing him to leave his house for the first time in way too long; he had no real purpose about where he was going or why he was going but he just needed to go. He needed to wander and he needed to get away from the suffocating walls. He thought briefly about asking Ray to hang out, thinking momentarily about getting something from Ray's stash; but shrugged it off when he took a drag of his cigarette instead. His mind had been going far too fast lately, thoughts of Geoff and more frighteningly thoughts of Ryan were darting across his mind. He noted the small bar; excited at the chance of grabbing something a little stronger than a beer.

Ryan felt hot and flushed, the itch beneath his skin turning into an ever-present buzz. It was good, achingly wonderful, no doubt about it, but also absolute torture. It reminded him of the time an ex-boyfriend had decided to tease him mercilessly, curious to see whether or not he could make Ryan come with only a few rough touches on his skin and dirty words in his ear. But in this situation, Ryan couldn't flip their positions and fuck his offender senseless until he felt some sense or relief. No, there was just the buzzing that begged him to put a knife against someone's throat and carve, and the way that the thought made his entire body flush.

Michael put out his cigarette, forcing his way through the bar. The good thing about working for Geoff was the fact that anyone who was even remotely involved in the crime business tended to know who they were and he wore the logo on his beanie like a fucking badge. The bartender was quick to take his order, nodding as Michael ordered one of their strongest. He didn't hesitate to make it just as quickly, shoving it in front of Michael before moving to take the other orders. 

Michael swallowed at the rough liquid, absentmindedly watching the TV as he decided what he was going to do today. He didn't want to go to Geoff's, even if he wanted to hangout with Gav; he was positive the man was babying the shit out of him and he didn't want to be anywhere near him. He didn't dare bother Jack, he knew her stance on their drama and he'd talked enough to Ray. It left him to wonder exactly what Ryan was doing, he supposed he could just head there to say hello, he was kind of missing the man to be honest; they'd been in such an intimate conversation that now it felt weird to not know what he was doing or where he was. Michael merely shrugged off the idea before forcing the thought out of his mind and deciding to let himself show up. Ryan had showed up on his doorstep unannounced a few days ago anyway, so what did it matter? He took another swig of his drink, enjoying the liquid courage.

Ryan trailed his fingers over the coffee table, pausing to pick up one of the photographs laid there. He smiled, glad that he's bothered to take a few picture of Victoria before he'd strung her up. She was tied loosely to the chair, utterly naked, but the part that made Ryan's cock twitch was the patterns he'd carved into her perfect, dark skin. The red lines looked almost like delicate, tribal tattoos, beautiful and visceral in their simple curves. Michael's wouldn't look like this, though. No, the man deserved something bold and sharp that contrasted with his pale skin and the adorable curve of his jaw, but perfectly matched his personality. Desperate, angry marks were what he deserved… Ryan shivered.

Michael took another few minutes to swallow down the dark beverage, throwing a few dollars into the man's tip jar; but not bothering to pay for it. He knew the man would pay for it, he owed Michael anyway. He pushed away from the bar, sliding off the stool and heading out of the small pub; he glanced around at the street names trying to decide exactly which way Ryan's house was. He took a left, already speeding his feet up to try to get his nerves to settle down.

/God/, Ryan thought dispassionately, /I'm half hard just from this/. It was true, and it almost disgusted him how much he got off on these thoughts. He fetched his butterfly knife from the counter, ignoring the smell of the raw steak he hadn't bothered to throw away yet, and sat back down on the couch. He leaned back, tracing the blade over his palm, up his arm, reveling in the way he could feel it press down against his skin as if the knife was an extension of his fingers.

 

It didn't take Michael long to figure out just where Ryan's condo was, remembering the ordinary building easily enough. He slid into the building; glancing at the lady sitting in the chair, asleep; before making his way up the stairs. He didn't have the patience to wait in an elevator. He took in a nervous breath once he reached the floor, pacing momentarily before letting his knuckles rap gently against the door.

Ryan's eyes snapped open at the sound, almost nicking his upper arm with the way his grip on the knife went from utterly relaxed to tense in a matter of seconds. He groaned at having been interrupted, flipping the blade closed and stuffing it into the pocket of his jeans. He adjusted himself slightly, hoping that his erection wasn't obvious to whatever bastard had decided to knock on his door. Ryan cracked his door open just enough that he'd be visible to his visitor, but not enough that they could see that contents of his apartment.

Michael's breath hitched slightly as he took in the man's face, eyes giving him a once over as much as he could due to the door. "Hey." Michael greeted lamely, gnawing on his lower lip lightly.

Ryan raised his eyebrows, "Well, this is unexpected." Suddenly, he didn't mind being interrupted quite so much. Then again, it all depended on why Michael was here.

"I can go... I was just uh, walking and thought I'd stop by." Michael muttered, he was pretty sure his words had slurred as well; but he couldn't really be too sure.

"No, it's fine. Come in," Ryan opened the door further, gesturing for Michael to enter. He noticed the slur to the man's words, and mentally cursed the fact that he wasn't sober. Oh well, maybe he wouldn't notice the pictures spread across his coffee table, then.

Michael slid in past Ryan easily, his eyes darted across the apartment, taking in the still messy boxes before furrowing his eyes at the coffee table. He turned back to glance at Ryan, eyes scanning over him now that the door wasn't blocking his view; smirking at the obvious bulge in Ryan's jeans. "I wasn't interrupting anything?"

Ryan closed the door, giving the man a deadpan look, "Funny thing is, it's really quite hard to find something to do in my apartment that doesn't involve blood, violence, or knives." He dug the butterfly knife out of his pocket, tossing it easily onto the coffee table before relaxing on his couch.

Michael shrugged, walking towards the pictures and tilting his head at them. His eyes widened slightly at the images; swallowing nervously. He moved around, in between the couch and coffee table but not sitting down as he got a better look at them. "Damn..."

Ryan crossed his legs casually, though his heart was beating rapidly. The last person that had found out about his stash of photos had thrown a glass at his head, called him a "fucking psychopath," and left. He assumed she'd broken up with him, given that she never even came back to reclaim her things. He gave Michael a predatory smirk, hoping it masked his nerves.

Michael hummed in his throat, letting his fingers trail over the pictures. He glanced back at Ryan, eyebrow raised at his smirk before he let his hands move away from the picture; before falling back into Ryan's lap none-too-gently. He wasn't too shocked that Ryan took pictures, it wasn't like Michael was in denial about what the man did exactly; the pictures were just proof. He pressed his back against the man's chest, fingers tapping at his thighs.

Ryan raised an eyebrow, surprised at how unfazed Michael was by the images. He wiggled his leg out from under the man, leaning forward to kiss his neck briefly, "So... why'd you come over?"

"I hadn't seen you in a while." Michael answered simply, letting his fingers trail across the man's thighs. It was easier than telling him he missed him and he wasn't about to tell him about Geoff's announcement; that truth be told he needed a distraction from it.

"Hmm… Miss me?" Ryan murmured, kissing at Michael's jaw. The man wasn't doing in his hard-on any favors, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

Michael let his head fall back onto Ryan's shoulder, his back arching from the position. "Yeah, I did actually." He wound a hand around to the back of Ryan's neck, fingers dancing across the skin there.

Ryan hummed happily, wrapping his hands around the younger man's waist. "You're not drunk, are you?" he asked. He could smell the alcohol in the man's skin, but that didn't necessarily mean he was smashed… Ryan desperately hoped he wasn't.

"I only had one drink." Michael muttered, enjoying the feeling of Ryan's arms around him. He moved his hips slightly, getting more comfortable against him.

Ryan shivered when Michael moved, his own hips bucking up involuntarily. "Good," he growled, threading a hand through Michael hair and kissing his neck roughly. The bruises were finally fading, and though Ryan wanted to wait until Michael was a blank canvas to mark him again, he also couldn't quite resist the open expanse of skin being presented to him.

Michael groaned at the feeling of lips on his neck; hand resting on Ryan's neck gripped tighter, nails scratching softly against the surface of his skin. He ground his hips down playfully, rotating them slightly as he did so.

Ryan groaned slightly, circling his hips up against the other man's ass. "How's- your rib?" he breathed, cursing the way his voice stammered over the words. He tugged Michael's hair tighter, daring him to make fun of the hitch.

 

Michael let out a giggle at the stammer before moaning at the tug on his hair; his hand running across Ryan's thigh gently; the other continuing to clutch against his neck. "Better, bruise is almost entirely gone." Michael informed him eagerly.

"Mm," Ryan hummed contemplatively, "Let me see." He released Michael's hair, prompting the other man to stand up so that Ryan could observe him. He glanced at the butterfly knife still lying on the coffee table; maybe...

Michael let his hands fall away from Ryan, moving to stand up in front of him; his face flushed slightly as he lifted the edges of his shirt up, showing off the slight discoloration of the bruise that was left. He noticed his quickness to obey, only after he'd already done it and resisted the urge to groan at himself.

Ryan nodded slowly, drinking in the sight of Michael's light, flushed skin. The bruise had faded to a slightly yellow color, though it was still purple in the center. It wasn't perfect, and he doubted the man was fully mobile as of yet, but if he was gentle… yes, it would do. He stood up, sliding a hand under Michael's shirt and tugged on it lightly, urging him to take it off.

Michael smirked, hands already tugging it over his head and tossing it uncaringly to the side. He stood there awkwardly for a few moments, shifting on his feet before letting his hands thread through Ryan's hair.

Ryan trailed his fingers lightly over the faded hickeys on Michael's chest, pulling the other man in for a brief kiss. "I guess you aren't broken anymore," he murmured against Michael's lips before deepening this kiss, biting the younger man's lower lip teasingly.

Michael shivered before he kissed back roughly, leaning forward to try to push Ryan back against the couch. He opened his mouth against Ryan's, prodding the other man's lips with his tongue lightly.

Ryan relented easily, parting his lips and dropping to the couch, letting Michael's tongue explore his mouth. He pulled the man down onto of him, smirking at the way he was still in charge, even if the younger man was the one on top of him.

Michael kept his hands on Ryan's chest to steady him as he ran his tongue along the roof of the man's mouth greedily, hips rolling down to meet against Ryan's. He pulled away from the kiss, breathing harshly as he pushed Ryan's face to the side to kiss along his jaw bone.

Ryan circled his hips up again and again, desperately trying to attain some sort of friction. He moaned slightly at Michael's kisses, though the sound was almost annoyed. He hated that Michael was a few steps behind him, given Ryan's dalliances with the butterfly knife. He let his nails scrape over Michael's back, making light red lines against his skin in revenge.

Michael let out a hiss at Ryan's nails across his back, hips bucking down subconsciously. The pain was more pleasurable than he wanted to admit and it was sending shudders through him. "Ah..fuck." He breathed out huskily, moving to bite at Ryan's ear.

Ryan would've let his eyes flutter shut if he hadn't enjoyed the way Michael looked on top of him so much: shivering and flushed and /edible/. The older man grinned, turning himself sideways and pushing Michael's shoulders so that he fell backwards onto the couch. Ryan didn't give him the opportunity to get up, crawling over the man and bracketing his hips with his knees.

Michael licked his lips at the sudden reposition, dark eyes trailing across Ryan's body and back to his face. He shuffled his body slightly, a vain attempt to escape the grasp of the man above him. It wasn't to get away of course, just to get closer to him. He rolled his hips up teasingly; though he had to admit he was just as desperate for the friction as Ryan seemed to be,

Ryan growled low in his throat, pupils blown wide with lust. He ground his hips down forcefully, pulling Michael into a quick but passionate kiss before moving his affections downwards to the man's neck. Ryan let his glance slide sideways, eyeing the butterfly knife that still sat on the coffee table hungrily.

Michael whined at Ryan's forcefulness; hands moving to grip at his hips in an attempt to hold him there before grinding up and pushing their erections together through the fabric of their jeans. He leaned his head to the side, allowing Ryan's kisses to slide along his neck before furrowing his brow at Ryan's gaze; glancing over himself and letting out a needy moan, shifting his hips desperately.

Ryan sat back reaching for the butterfly knife on the table. "So…" he panted, rolling his hips down onto Michael's, "What you said about- are you still up for it?" He flicked open the blade expertly for a moment, shutting it again as soon as he was sure the man had gotten a look at it.

Michael groaned, hips moving to meet Ryan's before nodding eagerly. "Yeah, yeah." He felt goosebumps rise on his skin at the view of the knife, licking his lips in excitement. He'd be lying if he said his heart wasn't beating from his nerves, but either way he trusted Ryan enough and he couldn't deny that he wanted it.

Ryan's eyes lit up as he flicked the knife open, tracing the palm of his hand absently with the point. He trailed his gaze over Michael's body, trying to judge where he should begin. It would have been almost clinical if it hadn't been for the way Ryan subtly rolled his hips down onto the younger man. He paused momentarily, brow furrowing, "Safeword?"

 

Michael watched Ryan intently, whining when Ryan's hips rolled expertly again.

"Uh, monkey dicks." He shrugged uncaringly, he really doubted he was going to use a safeword anyway; his pride would stop him.

Ryan snickered, his calm facade breaking for a moment. Then the mask was on again, and he was tracing the tip of the blade over Michael's chest. He stopped just under the man's left pectoral, pressing in and making a long, slow cut there. He felt the corners of his lips twitch up into a smile at the beads of blood that formed.

Michael chose to watch Ryan's face instead of the blade, teeth baring when he trailed the blade along his chest; mouth opening when he made the slice, breaking off into a loud yelp when the stinging hit. He wiggled subconsciously away from the blade, hips pressing against Ryan's and causing him to groan.

Ryan bent down, mouthing over the cut and flicking out his tongue to trace along it. He relished the taste of metal in his mouth, almost groaning at the taste of it. He sat back up, quickly slicing a matching wound on Michael’s other side, bringing the blade up to his mouth and licking the blood off of it.

Michael practically whimpered at the feeling of Ryan's tongue along the stinging slice, hips continuing to grind up harshly against Ryan's. Again, a cry left his lips at the slice, teeth baring and breathing harshly at the pain after a few seconds. He let his hands sneak to grab at Ryan's hips, fingers trailing across the denim of his jeans. "F-fuck."

Ryan let his head roll back for a moment, enjoying the pained sounds Michael made. He decided to take mercy on the man, at least somewhat, popping the button on his jeans and palming him through the thin fabric of his boxers. Then he made a long cut just beside Michael's hipbone, licking over the sliced flesh afterwards.

Michael moaned loudly when Ryan's hand palmed against him, hips jutting up against his hand. He cried out loudly, the scream tearing out from his throat before he could stop it; the pain to pleasure was quite the contrast and Michael let out a lewd moan at Ryan's mouth against the sensitive stinging flesh. He gripped at Ryan harshly, one hand moving to grab at his upper arm as he resisted the habitual urge to lash out at the man.

Ryan rolled his hips down again, his breath hitching every time he felt Michael's cock brush against his own. He was achingly hard now, and, frankly, it was a distraction. He could hardly dismantle the other man piece by piece when he wanted nothing more than to get off. He settled for swiping another quick line beside Michael's other hip, to even the pattern, and dragging a shallow cut along his sternum, before he moved downwards, nipping at the skin just above the other man's boxers.

 

Michael groaned again, head lolling to rest entirely against the couch; his chest was stinging painfully and he could feel the tickling trickles of blood sliding along his body. He let out another cry, chin arching up as his body strained against the slices. He let out a whimper, eyes pricking with tears due to the mix of pain and pleasure. He shook his head side to side slightly, trying to distract himself from the sensitivity of his wounds.

Ryan flicked his knife closed, but didn't set it to the side, holding it loosely in the hand that pressed against the couch as the other slid down Michael's boxers, freeing his cock. Ryan mouthed at it gently, looking up at the man with hooded eyes and a smirk as his tongue flicked over the sensitive head. The hand not holding the knife moved to Michael's hip, tracing the cut there. Ryan smiled at the feeling of blood covering his thumb, pulling away from the man momentarily to suck off the substance.

Michael watched Ryan as he maneuvered his boxers down; groaning at the sight of Ryan's mouth against his dick, hips bucking up at the feel of his tongue against him. He winced slightly as Ryan's thumb brushing across the open cut; breath hitching at the stinging sensation it made. "Shit...Ryan." He whined when Ryan sucked the blood off of his finger, his own body starting to tremble slightly.

"How are you doing?" Ryan asked, stroking Michael gently. The man seemed desperate, but he couldn't tell if the cuts were making him that way or just the sheer physical contact.

"Good, good." Michael murmured, blinking his eyes blearily down at Ryan; hips continuing to grind up in need. His breathing was falling through his chest rapidly, shaking hands snaking into Ryan's hair.

Ryan chuckled lightly, responding to the man's tugs on his hair by increasing his pace, swiping his thumb across the head of Michael's cock and spreading the pre-come across the tip. He sucked at the cut on Michael's hip, deciding that he definitely enjoyed the metallic taste of the man on his tongue.

Michael let out an embarrassingly shrill whine, body flushing harshly as his body tensed tightly. He was a mess, curls sticking down across his face and head lolling side to side as he tried to distract himself from the touches and sucking. Ryan wasn't even touching him that much but the intensity of the situation, the danger, was sending arousal rushing through him in waves. "I-fuck.." Michael's voice trailed off, instead murmuring incoherently as his body shifted against the couch.

Ryan chewed his lip, looking up at Michael with hooded eyes. He loved this.. Watching the normally controlling, angry, impatient man come apart beneath his careful fingers. The complete and utter control was so intoxicating, he couldn't help but palm his neglected cock through his jeans. Maybe one day Michael would let him tie him to a chair and make him scream, but today Ryan was a bit more focused on getting off on the thrill of the now very real possibility.

Michael's fingers were still clenching and unclenching in Ryan's hair, nails scraping roughly against his scalp. He closed his eyes tightly, teeth gritted together before blinking carefully down at Ryan and noting his palm; he smirked slightly; feeling a weird sort of accomplishment for it. He let his hands trail across Ryan's chest, tip toeing his fingers lower teasingly; regaining a small amount of his composure.

Ryan let out a sound that was half moan and half growl at the touch, crawling up to give Michael a vicious kiss. He tugged at the younger man's lower lip harshly, fairly sure that it was bleeding from the rough treatment. He swiped his tongue across the cut before pulling back and giving the man a sanguine smile, all the while not ceasing his ministrations.

Michael matched the kiss as best he could, barely flinching when Ryan's teeth pierced his lip. He groaned at Ryan's hand on him, hips circling up needily. He let his hands fumble with the button of Ryan's jeans, sliding the zipper down before pressing his palm against his boxers. Michael's mouth opened in a silent moan, the entire scenario was absolute torture. "Fuck.."

Ryan let out a soft groan, grinding his hips down into Michael's palm. "Fuck…" he breathed out harshly, unable to contain himself. He jerked Michael off harder to compensate for the moan, digging his thumb against the shallow cut on the man's sternum and massaging the spot rhythmically.

Michael let out a giggle at his reaction before arching his hips into Ryan's hand; he gave out a quiet whimper, bottom lip trembling slightly. It broke off into a sharp gasp when Ryan's thumb pressed against the cut, breath catching a few times in his throat when he started the massaging; it urged him to the edge a little harshly and he slid his hand into Ryan's boxers and gave him a rough stroke in return.

Ryan let out a moan, shutting himself up by moving to mouth at the cut below Michael's nipple, pinching the skin in between his teeth. Blood flowed languidly out of the wound and onto Ryan's tongue as he stroked Michael faster, trying to drive the man over the edge with light touches and brief spikes of pain alone.

Michael let out a loud cry when Ryan bit at his skin, the pained cry breaking off into a moan when Ryan slid his hand around him. He tried to keep up the same pace for Ryan, but he was pretty sure his hand stuttered once or twice. He couldn't help his eyes from starting to leak due to the pleasure mixing deliciously with the repetitive stings; whimpers falling from his throat before he could stop them as his hips ground of their own accord. "Ah, Ryan!" Michael cried out as he came, vision swirling slightly whether from the pain or the pleasure he wasn't sure. He kept his hand’s momentum languidly, though his body slumped visibly.

 

Ryan removed his hand from Michael's pants, wiping it off on his shirt as he continued to grind his hips lazily into the other man's hand. He wasn't close to coming, but the bloody cuts on Michael's skin made his head swim with arousal. He was half tempted to flick the knife open again, but he doubted the younger man would appreciate Ryan carving into him in his nearly comatose state. Instead, he sat up and grabbed Michael's wrist, gently but insistently removing the man's hand from his pants. He could finish himself off; Michael deserved some rest.

Michael swallowed, still panting heavily when Ryan removed his hand. "Sorry." He muttered weakly, moving to sit up slightly. "Do you want me to help or?" He could feel his face flushing from embarrassment, frustrated at himself for his lack of willpower. He could feel his body shiver slightly, the wounds stinging more now that they weren't mixed with pleasure.

Ryan chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to Michael's lips. "Only if you want to," he murmured, running a and though the man's hair as he admired his work. The wounds on Michael's chest were weeping slightly, drops of blood pooling in the cuts before running down his torso.

Michael nodded, hands moving to tug Ryan's pants and boxers down further before pushing against his chest and prompting him to sit back more. He leaned forward to press a kiss against the man's thigh, before nipping at the skin roughly. He darted his tongue out to lick at the head of Ryan's dick, smirking before pulling away slightly and letting his eyes meet Ryan's. "You can use the knife if you want, I can handle it."

Ryan groaned softly, his back arching of the couch of its own accord. "Are you sure?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at the younger man, but he was already flicking open the butterfly knife with a practiced movement, tracing the blade through the air in minute patterns idly, "Seems more like my thing than yours…"

Michael only offered a roll of his eyes, moving forward to spread his lips around Ryan's cock; tongue flicking out along the underside of it; eyes trained up on his. Truth be told, where Michael didn't necessarily have an affiliation for pain or blood, he certainly had a thing for being /good/ to Ryan and even though it freaked him out a little, his desperate want to make the other man happy. Plus there was the fact that Michael had long since gone pretty numb to physical pain, it hurt but it definitely wasn't the worst thing in the world and if Ryan got a kick out of hurting him, he certainly wasn't going to deny him. He kept his hands on the man's thighs, bracing himself as he hollowed his cheeks and sucked.

Ryan let out a low groan at the wet heat of Michael's mouth, resisting the urge to thrust forward into it. Instead, he focused on the pale expanse of Michael's skin, sitting up slightly to trace the blade over the planes of his face. His grip never wavered as he left a small, shallow cut above the man's eyebrow, and another beneath his cheekbone, despite the lewd sucking sounds that Michael was making and the fact that he was teetering on the edge of orgasm.

 

Michael flinched slightly at the cuts, but made no move to back off and made sure to swallow around him some more, edging him forward, he brought his hand up to stroke what he couldn't fit in his mouth. He twisted his hand slightly, licking along the side of Ryan's dick. He could feel the blood trailing lightly across his face, blinking away the blood that threatened to fall into his eye.

Ryan removed his knife from Michael's face, quickly flicking it closed and setting it down beside him. He knew that he was close, and didn't want to ruin the perfect marks he'd cut into the man's skin when he came. He shuddered, letting out a moan as Michael swallowed around him, and he spilled over the edge. He let his eyes flutter shut as the white hot pleasure burned through him, and found that the younger man's image was burned into his eyelids: bloody, controlled, with his lips stretched around Ryan's cock. It was an electrifying sight.

Michael swallowed him down easily, stroking his hand across the man's dick to make sure he was finished before pulling off with a pop and running the back of his hand across his mouth; drool and blood collecting on the back of his hand as he did so. He smirked, clearly proud of reducing Ryan to such pleasure. He sat back, catching his breath and running a hesitant hand across one the cuts on his chest.

Ryan opened his eyes lazily, smirking down at Michael. He stroked the man's cheek with one hand, thumb skimming over the cut he'd made as he leaned down to place a quick, but affectionate kiss on Michael's lips. "Come here," he murmured, tugging the younger man towards his lap.

Michael grinned at the affection, moving to sit where Ryan wanted him to. He brought his hand around the man's neck, laying his head on his shoulder. He let his hands stroke lazily on his skin, fingers tightly threading into Ryan's hair.

Ryan let his fingers brush over Michael's spine, burying his face in the man's hair. "You look absolutely gorgeous," he hummed, placing a soft kiss into the curls. It amazed him that the man he had believed to be so brash and impatient a week ago was now snuggled complacently in his arms.

Michael's smile broadened at the compliment, leaning into the man completely; resting their bodies together. "I did okay?" He murmured sleepily, eyes blinking up at him.

"Perfect," Ryan said affectionately, placing his lips to Michael's forehead gently. It was definitely a good start, and if he played his cards right, then perhaps he wouldn't have to resort to such… violent means to relieve the itch in his fingertips. It was almost entirely gone now, only being reawakened by the sight of the blood beading on Michael's face.

Michael beamed at him, he shifted slightly to get more comfortable; burrowing his face into the crook of Ryan's neck; a tired yawn making it's way through his throat. The affectionate gesture reminded him briefly of Geoff, though it was hard to compare the two he couldn't help his mind wandering to what the man would say if he saw him now. He wasn't sure if he'd be more upset at Ryan for doing it or for Michael for allowing it; though he'd have to imagine it'd be the latter.

Ryan chuckled at the yawn, pulling his boxers back on as best he could with Michael snuggled in his lap. He slid his hands down to grab Michael's thighs and stood up, holding the younger man carefully in his arms. "I think you need a nap."

Michael wound his arms around Ryan's neck, nodding his head at the suggestion. He could feel the exhaustion coursing through him, body still stinging with the fresh cuts. It was an odd sort of feeling that welled in his stomach at the compassion; and even though his mind was screaming for him to leave he couldn't help his tired body unwillingness to actually get away from Ryan.

Ryan stepped out of his jeans, carrying Michael to the bedroom and placing him carefully on the neat comforter. He pulled off the man's jeans, throwing them to the side, and made sure Michael's dick was tucked inside his boxers. Ryan removed his shirt and crawled into bed next to the younger man. He wasn't tired, necessarily, but he wanted to admire his handiwork for a little while longer.

Michael head lolled to the side when Ryan set him down on the comforter, hands moving up to rub at his eyes as another tired yawn slipped from his throat. Michael automatically cuddled up to Ryan when he crawled into the bed; ignoring the stickiness of his chest due to the blood and cuts. He slid a leg across the man's, tucking it carefully in between his and gripped at the man's stomach; resting his head across Ryan's chest.

Ryan gave Michael a chaste kiss on the cheek, wrapping his arms around the man and pulling him closer. The entire thing was so sickly sweet and domestic that it almost made his head spin. The contrast between the blood coating Michael's chest and the way they were cuddled together, the perfect picture of a romantic couple, was as obvious to Ryan as the fact that he was utterly enraptured with the man beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always nice to hear your thoughts! :)


	16. Chapter 16

Michael shivered into the embrace, taking in a shaky breath and curling in closer; he tried to shake off the feeling of inner turmoil as he closed his eyes and willed his mind to just stop thinking. It reminded him of Gavin, the two of them having gotten pretty bevved one night and Michael had decided to ask Gavin exactly how he dealt with hurting and killing and being a bad person and Gavin's answer was quick with a simple "You just stop caring." Michael was always envious of Gavin's ability to stop feeling, Michael didn't think he could ever achieve that lack of empathy. He couldn't help feeling a little sick, his body was heating up, his hands were still a little shaky, but he doubted it had anything to do with anything other than his complete feeling of guilt.

It took exactly fifteen minutes for Michael to realize the feeling eating away inside of him wasn't allowing sleep to overtake him. He felt the hot tears way before he expected them, pulling away from the man beside him silently; he looked asleep to which Michael was thankful, considering he didn't exactly want to show his most vulnerable side to the guy. He felt the tremors start to run through his body as he made his way slowly off the bed, hand covered over his mouth the prevent the sobs from leaving him as he made his way to the bathroom. At least it wouldn't be suspicious if Ryan woke up.

He shut the door silently, thoughts racing through his mind too fast for him to cope with; he could feel the trickles of sweat start to slide across his body, his entirety heating up in confused anger; his hands were shaking as he lifted up the toilet bowl; he wasn't expecting himself to actually throw up, though that didn't stop his body from dry heaving towards the bowl. He willed himself to stay silent, though he could feel a scream wanting to tear it's way through him. Geoff was going to hate him, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop the impending disappointment that would follow any interaction he'd have with the man. How could he do that? Geoff had only just told him he loved him. He was sick with himself.

He stood up, running a hand across his face and glancing at the reflection in the mirror; immediately hating what he saw. It wasn't the wounds necessarily, it was him; all of him.

"You fucking idiot." He seethed out the words quietly, a hundred percent directed at himself as the tears spilled down across his face. He yanked up a washcloth, turning the sink water on and straight to heat; he dipped the washcloth in it, soaking the material before roughly sliding it across his wounds. Michael gritted his teeth, groaning when he accidentally reopened them and turned on the water to the shower instead. He left it on cold, with any chance it might freeze him completely; he stepped in, automatically moving to sit down and tug his knees up to his chest, uncaring to the fact that his boxers were still on. Forget about him, forget about Geoff. Stop. Stop. Stop. Michael gripped his head, hands tugging into his hair as the sobs continued to leave his body.

Ryan was pulled out of a relatively dreamless sleep by the sound of water running in the bathroom. He immediately noticed that the space beside him was empty, sitting up and rubbing his eyes groggily. Michael had probably wanted a shower; Ryan could go for one himself, but the bed was warm and comfortable, and his every muscle ached with fatigue. He sighed, plopping back down against the pillows lazily, not quite able to drift off into sleep again. Perhaps he'd just wait for Michael to get back, or, if he worked up the energy, joint the younger man in the shower.

Michael kicked at the shower wall across from him, feet rapping repeatedly against it; in a temper tantrum of sorts. He clutched at his chest with one hand, nails scraping against it, while his other hand continued to cover his mouth from the sobs and screams that were falling from his throat. He hoped it would be muffled over the sound of the running water.

The sound of the shower wasn't easing Ryan’s mind in the least. The splash of water on tile was usually rhythmic, calming, but at the moment Ryan just found it distracting. He rolled out of bed with a dissatisfied noise, noticing the oddly sticky sensation of dried blood on his torso. Looking down, he could see that patches of the stuff covered his chest, roughly lining up with where Michael's wounds were, if a little lower. Ryan winced; he hadn't meant to make the cuts quite so deep.

The freezing water wasn't cooling Michael down in the slightest, though his feet had gotten tired of kicking against the opposite wall; his mind was still all about mentally insulting himself. They were mainly reused insults from a previous relationship, and he winced as memories flooded their way through his mind; piercing into his heart and causing him physical pain; or maybe that was just the cuts, he couldn't be too sure of anything anymore. He slammed his head back painfully into the tile, groaning at the sharp hit; he just wanted his mind to stop thinking, he wanted to stop thinking about everything. His body was freezing under the cold hit of the tile, jaw chattering roughly and body shaking as he curled up into himself again.

Ryan padded to the bathroom, fully prepared to slip into the shower with the man, maybe have some fun, but that idea faded from his head as soon as he saw Michael lying on the floor of the shower. /He didn't even bother to turn the lights on.../ Ryan thought mutedly, furrowing his brow. The man looked… broken in this lighting, helpless and shattered, mentally if not physically. He reminded Ryan of a rubber band, stretching and stretching like it could take anything, and then snapping without warning: impossible to put back together. And that was the thing, Ryan had no experience putting /anyone/ back together, much less someone who would need Michael's level of expertise. He was an expert at dismantling, put somehow that didn't seem like a good thing anymore.

Michael glanced up at Ryan as he entered, eyes trying desperately to mask his pain. Though it was futile, his breathing gave his panicking away and his sobs were still hiccupping occasionally; his shaking probably didn't help him seem very mentally stable anyway. Michael didn't dare say anything, he didn't dare voice his pain as he burrowed his face back in his arms and turned his head to stare at the shower wall instead of Ryan. He gave the man no explanation, he felt weak enough. Part of him desperately wished he was with Geoff, but he knew where they stood right now.

 

Ryan opened the stand-in shower glass door hesitantly, crouching down and reaching out a hand to tentatively rub Michael's back. He flinched slightly as the freezing cold water hit his wrist. Like everything else right now, it was the opposite of what Ryan needed, but he didn't dare turn up the heat. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the image before him: Michael, with his lips so blue he almost looked like a corpse. Even the dead bodies Ryan created looked more alive than the man.

Michael winced visibly at the touch, but didn't shy away from it. A sob fell from his lips again, with the water it was hard to tell what were tears and what were just droplets. He closed his eyes tightly, hands moving to claw at the back of his head; it was an almost vicious action that backed up his guilt and despair that was flooding from him right now.

Ryan opened his mouth, trying and failing to come up with something to say. In the end, he's just left gaping like a fish and snapped his jaw closed belatedly. What do you do in a situation like this? What do you say? /Geoff would probably know/, Ryan thought bitterly. For all his depression and alcoholism, the man knew how to deal with people.

"What do you want?" Michael tried to hiss out, confused as to why he was just there; though it probably came off more like a trembling whimper. He briefly thought of asking Ryan to call Ray, but decided quickly that he could just call him later if he needed too. He couldn't help his body from clutching painfully, dry heaving again from a sickness he didn't have. It was a weird sort of panic he'd done ever since he was little, it kept him from having to go through things he didn't want to and it was always a little less pathetic when you cried from being sick instead of crying from emotional stress.

"I-" Ryan managed to stammer out awkwardly, before he mentally readjusted himself, trying not to seem so utterly and pathetically lost. "What's wrong?" Great. Sure, he's panicking and all, but I'm sure he'll just tell you. Easy as fucking pie… Ryan grit his teeth.

Michael furrowed his brows in confusion at the man, wrapping his arms tighter around himself. "N-n-nothing." Michael growled back, teeth chattering harshly together.

Control… Ryan breathed, trying to mentally latch onto his watch-word. He stood, turning off the shower and letting most of the liquid slide down the drain before he stepped in, sitting down next to Michael. The leftover drops of water soaked into Ryan's boxers, making him shiver slightly as he put a hand on Michael's shoulder. "Obviously that's not true," he said calmly, trying to sound firm and in control.

"It is because I fucking say it is." Michael seethed, already trying to scoot away from the touching. His body was urging him to lash out, fight back, be prepared for the mocking and the snide comments. He had to expect them, they were going to come.

 

Ryan let the man pull away from him, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips. "Fine then," Ryan shook his head, "Nothing's wrong. But you're still going to catch a cold if you don't dry off." He stood, grabbing a towel from the rack, preparing to wrap Michael in it. He might not be very good with emotions, but this, at least, he could do.

Michael watched him get the towel, eyes squinting at the gesture. He felt similar to a disobeying child as he reached up behind himself and turned the water back on. He slid his head back in his arms and closed his eyes tightly. He wasn't ready to deal with the world just yet.

Ryan sighed, tossing the towel over the edge of the shower and reaching in to turn the water's temperature from icy rain to a warm drizzle. He chewed his lip briefly, contemplating what he should do. Finally, he settled on padding back into his bedroom, kicking off his wet boxers, and sliding underneath the covers. Michael was an adult; he could take care of himself, and Ryan was bone tired.

Michael hissed out a quiet "Fuck you." before curling up tightly in the corner of the shower; arms curled around himself as he rested his head on the tile. He felt miserable, his chest was stinging and now he was just really fucking cold. He was pretty sure he'd pissed Ryan off at some point, but he couldn't bring himself to care too much. He knew his stubbornness would only damage himself in this situation, his eyes already closing exhaustedly.

Ryan awoke early, not that that was unusual. He had odd, erratic sleeping patterns that kept him up until 4am some night, and made him collapse as early as 7pm on others, and waking was no different. The digital glow of his alarm clock informed him that it was 7:46am and Ryan rolled out of bed with a sigh; there was no point trying to go back to sleep. He hobbled sleepily to the kitchen, grabbing an apple from one of the plastic bags on his kitchen counter and taking a bite. He stopped mid chew as his tired brain relayed the memories of the night before. Michael...

Michael's neck cramped painfully against the wall of the shower; his bones were aching from sleeping on the tile and the light drizzle of the shower had long since turned back to cold. He'd have to pay Ryan's water bill for him this month he thought vaguely, rubbing at his tired eyes. His boxers were sticking to him uncomfortably and he let out a pitiful cough.

Ryan half-walked, half-jogged to the bathroom, almost slipping on the tile in his drowsy state. His eyes widened when he saw Michael still lying on the shower floor and he sucked in a breath. The man looked almost dead: his lips were blue and his normally rosy face was as pale as a corpse. The thin cuts on his face and torso were the only color visible; the scabbing flesh looked more like mutilations than the artwork Ryan had intended them to be. Michael's cough broke him out of his trance, and he moved quickly to shut off the water, face contorting into a near panicked expression.

Michael blinked up at him, it was sort of shocking to see Ryan actually visibly worried; and he instantly felt the need to apologize to him. "I-I-I'm s-sorry." He stumbled, shiver running through him as his teeth chattered. Michael moved to get up, hand clutching onto the door of the shower. His body felt oddly numb and uncomfortable.

Ryan didn't deign to give the man a response, grabbing the towel he'd left for Michael the night before and wrapping it around his shivering shoulders. He was tempted to pick Michael up and carry him to the bedroom, swaddle him in cloth and call Caleb, but he wasn't sure the man would appreciate the gesture. Instead, he pulled him in close, wrapping his arms around Michael and hoping that his body heat would do something to warm the shaking corpse.

"'m cold." Michael murmured, keeping his hands curled up in himself to try to retain some of the heat Ryan was giving him. His mind felt drowsy and distant, and he wished his teeth would stop clanking together; the noise made his head hurt. "'m really cold." He slurred after a few seconds.

That was the last straw, Ryan realized. He could deal with Michael being hurt, desperate, anything, if it was under his control. When it wasn't, when Michael was shivering and blue and clutching to Ryan like a life preserver, that's when it was too much. Firmly, he lead his charge out of the bathroom, making sure to stay close enough to him that the man would still feel his body heat, and into the bedroom, where he picking Michael up and placed him on the bed, pulling the blankets up to cover his shivering form.

Michael stumbled his way out of the bathroom with Ryan, feet very nearly giving out on him a few times. He snuggled into the warmth of the bed, hands gripping at the blankets as he cuddled into the heat of the bed. His mind was cloudy as he reached out for Ryan, lip still trembling slightly. "I-I-I'm sor-sorry."

"You're an idiot," Ryan chided, but still slipped under the covers with him, "I am this close to calling Caleb. If you so much as sneeze…" The older man shook his head, wrapping his arms around Michael gently.

Michael wound his arms tightly around Ryan, body huddling into the warmth of the older man's body. He coughed lightly, trying to sink further into the comfort of the bed and Ryan's arms wrapped around him. "Please don't call Caleb." He really didn't want to be diagnosed with hypothermia, it wasn't like there was anything they could even do for that.

"You really don't have a say in the matter," Ryan pursed his lips, letting out an annoyed breath. It was quite hard to avoid chastising Michael, but at the same time he knew it was partially his fault for letting the man stay in the shower in the first place. Really, Michael wasn't an adult in a lot of ways… and that scared Ryan. He didn't want to have someone he was responsible for 24/7. Codependency really wasn't his thing; it was Geoff's.

Michael frowned at the tone, letting out a sigh of his own. He pulled away slightly, getting the impression that the man wasn't really in the mood for cuddling. It didn't shock Michael, of course; he was clingy and needy at best, he knew that. It was what made staying away from people so difficult for him.

"Look," Ryan said pointedly, reaching out one hand to cup Michael's chin, forcing the younger man to look at him and the worried expression that plagued his features, "You're sick. You might have pneumonia, or hypothermia, or a cold, or a countless other things and I'm not going to let you die just because you told me not to call a doctor. Hell, he's barely even a doctor! He's a guy in a skirt with a cursory knowledge of medicine. There's nothing to be scared of."

"I'm not scared, I just think it's stupid to get worked up over a fucking cold." Michael huffed, though his face softened a few seconds later. "You can call him." He muttered, laying his head back down; though he made sure to stay a little distant from Ryan.

Ryan resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but slipped out from under the covers anyways. He walked into the living room to retrieve his phone, returning with it clutched in his hand like a lifeline. He sat back down on the bed, laying the back of his hand against Michael's forehead, furrowing his brow at the overly warm temperature. He dialed Caleb's number quickly, using his shoulder to hold the phone in place as he ran a hand gently through Michael's curls.

Caleb furrowed his brow at Ryan's caller ID, pressing the answer button. "Hey Ryan, what can I do you for?"

Ryan paused at the man's language. He could never tell if Caleb was being serious or not, "A diagnosis. Can you meet me at my apartment in, say, less than 10 minutes?"

"STD's kicking back up, Ryan?" Caleb asked back wittingly before changing his tone. "Yeah, I can be there. I just got to get my supplies ready."

Ryan rolled his eyes, not deigning to give the man a response to his question. "Good," he said, hanging up on the man without so much as a goodbye. He returned his attention to Michael, who was still looking like a frozen corpse, despite his burning forehead.

Michael let a yawn fall through him, stuttering breath ending it, he could feel the shivers picking up and he mentally cursed the tremors; he was just tired of being cold and confused.

Ryan spent the next ten minutes by Michael's bedside, only leaving to get the man a glass of water and retrieve his half eaten apple from the kitchen. He threw the rotting steak in the garbage on his way back, the only amount of cleaning he was willing to do for Caleb's sake. He pressed the water into Michael's hands, giving him a soft kiss on the forehead as he leaned in.

Caleb was sporting a white skirt and a polo shirt, complete with heels and earrings as he made his way up the stairs of Ryan's apartment; first aid case in hand as he rapped on the door. Michael took a sip of the water, frowning when Caleb knocked on the door. Caleb didn't give Ryan the time to answer, already shoving his way through and closing it behind him.

Ryan walked into the living room, giving Caleb a blank stare when he noticed that the man had already entered his apartment. "Thanks for knocking," he said dryly, motioning Caleb towards the bedroom, "He's down this way."

Caleb raised an eyebrow at the obvious state of undress, already putting two and two together as he followed Ryan towards his bedroom. He tsk'd automatically when he noticed Michael's obvious discoloration. "What happened?" He mused easily, already setting his hospital stuff on the bed and moving closer to him. Michael rubbed at his eyes tiredly, cuddling further into the warmth.

"Idiot slept in the shower," Ryan muttered, crossing his arms. He figured he should probably put some clothes on at some point, but right now he was much more concerned with Michael. "Also, he has a cracked rib, but that's from a few days ago."

"You slept in the shower?" Caleb scoffed, sitting down on the bed and moving to press a hand to Michael's neck; checking his pulse. 

"Huh?" Michael mumbled, brows furrowing as he glanced back at Ryan before looking towards Caleb again. 

"Hm, his breathing’s a little shallow and he seems a bit dazed." Caleb pressed a hand against his the man's fingers; squeezing them gently. "Are your fingers numb, Michael?"

Ryan went around to the other side of the bed, sitting next to Michael with his legs crossed beneath him. He ran a hand through the man's hair, making note of his dazed expression. That couldn't be good...

"Y-yeah." Michael answered a few seconds later, blinking repeatedly. Caleb nodded before pulling out a thermometer and prompting Michael's mouth open; resting it under his tongue. Caleb rested the back of his hand on his forehead, it was cooling down a little too fast for comfort. "If his temperature is below 95, most likely it's hypothermia.”

"Fuck," Ryan murmured, glaring down at the auburn haired man. He just had to be a stubborn, immature little shit at all times, didn't he? "What do I do if it is?"

"Keep an eye on his temperature, give him something warm to drink. No caffeine or alcohol. Keep him wrapped up in blankets, don't let him fall asleep until his temperature is back up near 95. Don't apply any rapid warming, like sticking him in the shower. If I had the setup I would give him moist oxygen; but we don't. I suspect he'll be okay though, the confusion and slurring will wear off soon." Caleb grabbed out the thermometer from his mouth, "It's only a 92, which isn't so bad."

Ryan felt a frown tug at the corner of his lips, "That's 6 degrees below average. How is that 'not so bad'?" he asked, giving the words a mocking twist. He'd never been overly fond of Caleb, and his nerves weren't doing his attitude towards the man any favors.

"Well, considering an 89 means his breathing stops, and he fell asleep in the shower; he was about a good thirty minutes from going unconscious. Unless your house suddenly gets a cold front and everything turns to ice, his temperature will only rise from here. So yeah, given the circumstances. Not so bad." Caleb shot back, his words were only honest but he didn't appreciate the tinges of disrespect Ryan was giving him. He pressed a hand back against Michael's throat; counting the steady breaths. "How're you feeling?" Caleb asked him gently.

"I don't know." Michael muttered back uneasily.

Ryan decided to just swallow his pride and let Caleb tell him what to do. The man was a "doctor," after all. He ambled into the kitchen, pulling a carton of milk from the fridge and pouring it into a mug. He heated it up in his admittedly less-than-state-of-the-art microwave for a minute, making sure the drink was warm before he tore open a packet of hot cocoa mix that he still had lying around from Christmas. Michael liked sweet things.

Caleb looked through his bag to see if he had an intravenous solution; which would allow the man's blood to warm when injected. He took out a needle, making sure to clean it before pulling back on the lever and letting it take in the solution. He still needed to warm it up in the microwave; of course. "What's that?" Michael chimed, staring at the syringe. 

"It's gonna warm your blood up for you." Caleb answered simply. 

Michael could feel the panic hit him hard, "No..no, no."

"It's just going to help, Michael." Caleb tried to sooth, quickly setting it to the side when he noticed the man's breathing speeding up.

"He doesn't like needles," Ryan interjected from the doorway, walking in and settling the mug of hot chocolate on the bedside table. "If you want to give him that, you'll probably have to wait 'til he's asleep," he shot Michael and apologetic look, taking the man's hand and squeezing it lightly.

Michael's breathing relaxed sufficiently when Ryan returned, thankful that Caleb set the thing aside. "That's weird from someone with tattoos." Caleb muttered but shrugged it off, "It's not completely necessary, it would just make the process faster, we can wait." Michael was still trying to make sense of their conversation, eyes squinting slightly. Everything just felt clouded and different.

Ryan's voice turned soft as he began to address Michael, shifting a few pillows behind the other man and trying to get him to sit up slightly, "Alright, Michael. I'm going to need you to drink this." He firmly placed the mug of hot chocolate into the man's hands.

Caleb moved to set a chair near the bed; once his temperature started rising; he'd leave but he wanted to make sure the man was on the right track before he just up and left. Michael sat up; taking a sip of the sweet liquid. He swallowed it greedily, enjoying the warmth of the drink.

Ryan traced a thumb over the cut on the man's cheek, looking down at him with a disapproving expression, "You're a fucking idiot, you know that?" His voice was stern, but affectionate, and he couldn't quite help the worry that crept into it.

"So you've said." Michael murmured tiredly, words still slurring slightly. He took another sip of the drink, nuzzling slightly into the touch.

"Yeah, well… At least now I know that if you ever have a breakdown in the middle of the night, I can't leave you to your own devices," Ryan said teasingly, though it was actually quite true. It was suddenly very clear to him that Michael was someone who had to be cared for carefully. It was like bringing home a fish from the pet's store, only to find out that it was some exotic, tropical breed that needed about twenty different plants and a water heater once you'd already gotten attached, Ryan thought dispassionately.

Michael rolled his eyes, he'd managed to make out most of what the man said and it sounded a little too mocking for him to be comfortable with. He shrugged it off in favor of drinking another sip before handing the mug back to Ryan and laying back down. He offered a glare to Caleb. "Can you go now?" Caleb's eyebrows raised, but he sighed; glancing over to Ryan. "I can leave the stuff here." He offered. "Since that one's being pouty."

"Yeah, thanks," Ryan said, his tone actually grateful for once. He turned away from Michael, offering Caleb his hand. Ryan didn't give a shit if he wore skirts and earrings- hell, he could wear a banana costume if he wanted- the man was one of the best in the business when it came to fixing people up, and this was infinitely more easy than taking Michael to a hospital.

Caleb shook his hand. "Sure." He turned his attention back to Michael. "Don't fall asleep in anymore showers." He grabbed out the thermometer and the syringe. "It needs to be warmed for twenty seconds before you insert it, just the vein in his wrist is fine. You don't need to do it if his temperature is rising steadily, but if it slows at all before, you might need to."

Ryan nodded, taking the items. "And if he doesn't get better, I'll call you?"

"Sounds good." Caleb nodded, making his way out of the room.

 

Ryan walked around to the other side of the bed, setting the items down on the table next to it before slipping under the covers next to Michael. "You should probably drink the rest of that before it gets cold," he murmured, nodding to the hot chocolate.

Michael nodded before grabbing the hot chocolate, bringing it to his lips and swallowing a good portion of it. The sweet warmth was warming his body, along with the heat underneath the blankets. He still felt drowsy, but the confusion was clearing up.

Ryan slipped an arm around the younger man's shoulders, rubbing them slightly, "I'm going to check your temperature again in a few minutes, okay? Then maybe you can get some actual rest." He tried to sound firm and reassuring, but his voice defaulted into the cool, calm tone he used when talking to his victims; Ryan winced.

"Kay." Michael mumbled, taking another sip of the nearly empty mug. He was a little taken aback by Ryan's tone, but shrugged it off in favor of trying to focus on getting warmer. A slight shiver ran through him as he chugged down the rest of the chocolate, turning his body to set it on the end table beside him.

Ryan watched Michael hawkishly, observing his movements with practiced eyes. He seemed to be coming to; his cheeks were regaining a bit of their natural color and his eyes were beginning to look less dazed. Ryan resolved to have an actual conversation with Michael about this incident when the man was fully conscious.

Michael snuggled back into the blankets, bringing the plush fabric up across his shoulders. He let out a yawn, lip only trembling slightly as he did. He could feel the embarrassment sinking in as his mind stopped clouding; the memories of his breakdown forcing their way through. He wished he could've waited at least a while to show that side of him to the older man, he was too vulnerable and sad in those moments; a bit too over dramatic.

Ryan handed to the thermometer to Michael gently when ten minutes had passed, letting the man put it into his own mouth.

Michael slid it under his tongue, laying back and resting his head against the pillows. He rubbed at his eyes while he waited patiently for it to measure his temperature.

Ryan ran a hand absently through Michael's curls. "How are you feeling?" he asked when the thermometer beeped, pulling it from the man's mouth and checking the number. The drab green face of the instrument read out a relieving 95.8, and Ryan let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

 

"Better, I'm not that cold anymore." Michael murmured, raising an eyebrow at Ryan's breath. He assumed it meant that his temperature had gotten better, but he wasn't positive.

"Mm," Ryan hummed, "Good. You're temperature's risen too, so you can go to sleep if you'd like." He himself was feeling rather exhausted, and placed the thermometer back on the bedside table before snuggling down into the covers.

Michael felt like he was almost already asleep by the time Ryan had finished his sentence, face snuggled comfortably into the pillows. His hands went to clutch onto Ryan's skin subconsciously as the sleep started to overtake him.

By now, Ryan almost expected the clinginess, and he let himself loop an arm around Michael as he drifted off. He traced the curve of the man's spine with a finger, enjoying the smooth, unadulterated feel of the skin. He could get used to this, falling asleep with Michael snuggled next to him. Maybe not the rest of it, but this… this was comfortable.

Michael's fell into a mostly dreamless sleep, his brain finally settling down and allowing him to just relax. To say he needed it was an understatement, lately sleep had not been the most important thing on his mind and when he wanted to fall into the qualms, he'd more often than not had an inability to even fall asleep; his mind was too sporadic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like Michael's reaction may seem a bit over-dramatic, but I assure you later his issues will make more sense. Thanks for reading guys! Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


	17. Chapter 17

It have been almost a week since he'd called Michael, Geoff realized. During that time he'd: freaked out to Gavin, taken a shower, calmed down by cooking a veritable feast, met with a couple of drug lords, bought groceries (Read: alcohol), had a breakdown, finished a bottle of whiskey, freaked out to Gav again, jerked off, cried himself to sleep, gotten his shit together, and begun to plan a heist. This was his life… this was the sad, pathetic, utterly uneventful life of Geoff Ramsey. He was the leader of a gang, for Christ's sake! How was he afraid of one wimpy little kid that he'd known for years! Probably, Geoff thought, sitting on his couch and paying minimal attention to the game of Peggle he was playing, because you're in love with him.

Caleb had decided upon further thought that it was a tad bit suspicious that Ryan had not only had Michael at his house but that he'd also suffered a rather rough form of hypothermia. Caleb decided he should approach Geoff about the scario. So here he was, rapping fingers against Geoff's door.

Geoff sighed, pausing his game and tossing his controller onto the couch none too gently. He'd just wanted one peaceful morning to himself, sans all forms of drama and interruption. Was that too much to ask? He smoothed his rumpled T-shirt and jeans, opening the door with an impatient, "What?"

"Well, it's good to see you too, Geoff." Caleb smirked, forcing his way inside and leaning against one of the tables.

Geoff shot the man a wilting glare, shutting the door with his foot, "Nice skirt." Okay, it was actually kind of nice… But like hell Geoff was gonna admit that. "Why're you here? I have things to do other than entertain you, you know."

"Thanks, it's new." Caleb smiled back easily. "Uh, well. I got an interesting call from Ryan today, and since I thought it was odd that you weren't there and he was; I supposed I should let you know." Okay, so to be fair, Caleb should probably stop holding back the information now.

"Wow, that's real enlightening, thanks Caleb," Geoff crossed his arms, face immediately going sour at the mention of Ryan, "What, did the bastard nick himself while cleaning his knives or something?"

"Michael had a pretty bad case of hypothermia. Apparently he spent the night in Ryan's shower with the water on." Caleb mused, running a hand through his hair. "Jokes aside, since he works for you and you have some sort of relationship with him; thought I'd tell you."

Geoff blanched, "What? He has- He was with…" The tattooed man sunk down onto his couch, running a through his hair with a distraught expression. His rattled brain began to put the pieces together: Michael was at Ryan's. In Ryan's apartment, comfortable enough to use Ryan's shower. Oh god… they were fucking. How long had they been fucking? Was Geoff the only god damn person not to know about this?! But… Why did Michael sleep in the shower. That wasn't like him… was he just exhausted? Had Ryan… done something? Did he have a panic attack? Geoff tugged roughly at his hair, frustrated immensely by the entire situation.

Caleb watched the man sink unto the couch, well this confirmed his thoughts that Geoff indeed wasn't made aware of Michael's condition. He decided quickly not to tell Geoff about the cuts or about the fact that Ryan had only been in a pair of boxers. "He, uh- Ryan mentioned something about a breakdown... but I don't exactly know what the circumstances were. He's doing better, I gave Ryan a syringe and a warming liquid to help speed the process along."

"A what?" Geoff's eyes flew open, and he gave Caleb a horrified look. "Michael has a phobia of needles! Why would you- He doesn't-" the older man spluttered, standing up like a shot and beginning to stuff his feet into his flip flops. "Dammit, where's his apartment?" He knew he wasn't being rational, but at the moment he was too scared for Michael to do anything but rush over there and try to be the hero.

Caleb raised an eyebrow at the man sprinting up from his spot on the couch; he was pretty sure Ryan would murder him for telling if he ran over there. "He was going to wait for him to fall asleep, he's fine Geoff; I wouldn't have left if I didn't think he was going to be okay."

Geoff stopped, scrubbing his face with his hands defeatedly. "I- Okay, okay… I think I need a drink," he decided, slouching into the kitchen and pouring himself a glass of something- he didn't even bother to check what.

Caleb let out a breath, moving a hand to rub at the back of his neck. "I feel like I've missed something, are you and Michael not getting along right now?" He asked hesitantly.

"No," Geoff muttered angrily, "Not since he fucked Ryan." /And I called him a whore./ It wasn't inaccurate, but Geoff still winced when he thought about the incident. Fuck him and his fucking temper...

Caleb made a slightly disturbed face, he didn't understand how anyone could fuck Ryan; the guy was creepy as shit. "Well... that's sort of unexpected."

"Preaching to the choir," Geoff knocked back his drink. "That fucking psychopath is going to hurt him some day, and I'm not going to be around to protect him… I fucking hate it."

Gavin chose that moment to walk out of his room, sleepy eyed as he ran a hand across his face; he took note of Caleb; smile lacing his features as he nodded toward him. "Hello pleb!" 

"Hey Gav." Caleb chuckled back, sending a wave towards the man.

Gavin glanced over to Geoff, eyebrow raised. "What's up?"

Geoff chose to simply shake his head and pour himself another drink, motioning for Caleb to explain

"Ryan called me today to call me over for a diagnosis, turns out Michael spent the night in the man's shower with the water on. He had hypothermia." Caleb explained. 

"He what?" Gavin's eyes widened, "Is he okay?" 

"Yeah, he was when I left." Caleb nodded. 

Gavin glanced back at the door, before looking back to Geoff. "Do you.. want to go?" Whether or not it was Ryan's house, Michael was still hurt and drama could be put aside just to check on him; even if it wasn't an emergency.

Geoff gnawed on his lip, considering. Yeah, he /wanted/ to go, but that didn't mean he should. Gavin was such a fucking enabler… "Yes," Geoff muttered, taking a sip of his drink. He didn't want to be too drunk to drive, but in all honesty, he needed this drink.

"See ya later Caleb." Gavin called, ignoring the spluttering man. "He's not gonna kill you, we'll tell him we beat it out of you." Gavin was already tugging on his shoes and yanking Geoff from the house. He jogged down the stairs. "What car are we taking?"

"Uhm," Geoff spluttered, "I don't care, dude, but I'm driving." Gavin was a menace behind the wheel. "Do you even know where Ryan lives?"

"Yeah, let's take the yellow one." Gavin said once he opened the door to Geoff's garage, he slid into the passenger seat quickly. "He lives in that one hotel building thing, the really small quiet one? It's down near Innocence."

"How do you even know that," Geoff shook his head, fishing his keys out of his wallet. He flipped through the ring, stopping when he found the one that matched the car and turned it on, not bothering to buckle up. He pulled out of the garage easily, trusting Gavin to direct him to the right place.

"A little bit of undercover work never hurt anyone, Geoffrey." Gavin answered cheekily, sending a smirk towards him. "Just a right up here."

"Yeah, sure," Geoff snorted, turning at the intersection. What was Gavin's idea of undercover, anyways? The man built explosives for a living.

"Hey, so don't like go ape shit on Ryan and try to kill him or anything okay?" Gavin advised, his voice taking on a joking tone. Though he was half-worried the man would, they'd been lucky enough not to face each other since everything happened. "Left here."

"I'm not a fucking animal, Gav," Geoff muttered, jerking the wheel a little harder than necessary, "I'm not gonna lose my shit and start pummeling the guy or anything."

"Okay." Gavin kept quiet then, just occasionally instructing Geoff on where to turn. The ride was short, not more than fifteen minutes of driving when Gavin instructed him to pull over to the side in front of the hotel.

"Wow, this place is… not as creepy as I would have expected," Geoff commented, getting out of the car. It was shockingly mundane, not at all the run down motel with flickering fluorescent lights that he'd expected.

"Nope." Gavin agreed, opening the door to the building and walking inside. He moved to snap his fingers in front of the woman's face, breaking her from her nap. "Our friend lives here? Wavy hair, creepy smile?" 

She furrowed her brows momentarily. "213, third floor." She waved her hand to shrug them off, laying her head back down against the chair. Gavin grabbed Geoff's arm and started to tug him up the stairs.

Geoff snorted; of course Ryan was identifiable by his insane grin alone. "Hey, Gav- you okay?" he asked, noticing the man's tight grip on his forearm as they practically ran up the stairs. He hadn't really thought that this would be affecting Michael's "boi" as much as it was affecting him.

"Yeah, just worried." Gavin answered simply, shrugging his shoulders as he reached the door. He took a breath, offering Geoff a gaze. "You ready?"

Geoff nodded, taking a steadying breath and giving the door a brief rap with his knuckles.

Ryan groaned at the noise, setting down the novel he'd been reading to roll out of bed. He thought about dressing, but dismissed the idea. If whoever was knocking wanted to interrupt him in the middle of a very well written torture scene, then they could deal with seeing Ryan in his boxers. He padded into the living room, opening the door with a sigh.

Gavin hadn't realized exactly how awkward it was to just show up at Ryan's house unannounced until he answered the door. Quickly, he tossed the thought away exchanging it for a warm smile.

"Hey Ryan! We uh, heard about Michael and thought we'd stop by to check up on him." He kept his gaze up, refusing to comment on the fact that Ryan was indeed sporting just a pair of boxers.

 

Ryan raised an eyebrow, but motioned for the two men to enter. Geoff shot him a blistering glare, slipping past him easily and looking around, no doubt searching for Michael. "He's sleeping at the moment, but I should probably check his temperature again anyways."

Geoff couldn't help but think that Ryan's apartment was absolutely disgusting, with boxes piled against the wall and groceries not even out of their plastic bags sitting on the counter. There were a few empty coffee mugs scattered around, and if he took a deep breath, Geoff could smell the stench of rotting meat coming from somewhere. He wrinkled his nose.

Gavin glanced around, eyes searching along the boxes but not really paying too much attention to the mass amount of things. He was polite enough to not run to the man's bedroom to check on Michael and instead followed Ryan slowly. He shot back a glance at Geoff, eyes widening slightly at the amount of disarray. For some reason he had just assumed Ryan would be an organized person.

Ryan led them to his bedroom, gently shaking Michael's shoulders. He actually looked quite peaceful like this, all bed head and rosy cheeks without a hint of the anger that was usually just beneath the surface.

/God/, Geoff thought, /He looks like he's falling apart.../ Michael had the blankets pulled up over most of his body, but there were two shallow cuts on his face and the tattooed man couldn't help but think of who put them there. It hadn't been Ryan, probably, but the idea grabbed hold of him and he couldn't quite make it let go.

Michael's initial reaction was to groan and glare up at Ryan for waking him, he'd been having such a peaceful sleep and he wasn't too sure he'd be sleeping as well as he had for a long time. Once he blinked blearily, focusing on where he was; eyes locking on the figures standing near the doorway. He hoped he was imagining them, that they were just a side effect from the hypothermia. "

Hi boi!" Gavin waved cheerily, though he was visibly wincing at the look of the man.

Michael suddenly felt very very confused in his own thoughts and feelings, and he briefly thought of falling off the bed and crawling underneath it; just to get away. He'd assumed when he did finally speak to Geoff it would be on his terms, and not where he showed up randomly at Ryan's house. "Hey.." Michael muttered weakly.

Ryan slid back into bed, returning to his novel. He didn't really want to be part of this entire drama, and perhaps Geoff would stop shooting him those pathetically blistering glares if he simply checked out for a little bit.

Geoff flicked his attention away from Michael for a moment, bristling at the way Ryan lounged next to the auburn haired man like he fucking owned him. But when Michael muttered a weak, "Hey," Geoff suddenly wanted to melt. His heart was beating inside his chest and the words and apologies he'd been dying to say for the last few days died on his tongue. 

"Hey, buddy…" Geoff murmured, "How ya feeling?"

"I'm alright." Michael answered, he shifted on the bed; moving to sit up against the headboard and avoided the need to run into the man's arms. The covers were starting to feel a little too hot against him, and he could feel his face starting to heat up normally. He had to remind himself that he was still upset with the older man, despite whatever dramatics he went through last night he was still angry. 

Gavin moved closer, yanking at a chair that was in the corner and sitting down. "So, why'd you choose the shower as a bed?"

Ryan shot the Brit a glare as he swept off the papers that had been sitting on the chair, but otherwise remained unresponsive to the conversation, trying to bury himself in the gory scene his book was laying out before him.

Geoff rested his arms on the back of Gavin's chair, giving Michael a wan smile. This was the first they'd spoken in days and the tattooed man already felt the knot in his chest loosening. Well, at least if he didn't focus on where they were and in whose company.

"Because I felt like it." Michael retorted uncaringly. 

He felt uncomfortable under the gaze of the two, and he counted his breaths to try to refrain from panicking and booking it the fuck out of there. He wanted water, or food, or something just to distract himself from this conversation; thinking briefly of asking Ryan for some water but deciding against it. He definitely didn't want to appear dependent in front of them. He crossed his legs, pushing the blanket off of his shirtless chest and sitting up fully; rubbing at his face tiredly.

"Okay, well, don't do that next time, asshole," Geoff said, but without conviction.

He was so tired of acting casual, of flitting around all their fucking issues… To top it off, he was just tired, as if the mental exertion of worrying over Michael had drained away all his energy. Maybe it had. Maybe, if they were somewhere else, he could tell the man that. He could slip into that weirdly neat bed of Ryan's and hold Michael close, tell him he forgave him, kiss him on the forehead… But they weren't somewhere else. They were here, and Ryan was just casually reading his book like some sort of looming specter, and there was tension in the air that Geoff didn't know how to fix.

"As if you have any fucking right to tell me what I can and can't do." Michael seethed, though he made sure to mumble most of it and not address the man in any way. He didn't want to fight, he just wanted this not to be happening right now. He rubbed at his sleepy eyes some more, trying to debate his options. Part of him really did just want to take off and leave the house; no matter how childish it seemed.

Ryan decided to interrupt this conversation before it got any more heated, "I'm going to take your temperature again." The supposed psychopath picked up the thermometer from his bedside table, not so much offering it to Michael as forcing it on him. Geoff's lip curled in disgust at the gesture, but he stayed silent. Good. Geoff didn't have any right to act like he was 'good cop' in this situation.

Michael opened his mouth, letting the thermometer rest under his tongue and waiting patiently for it to take his temperature. It made him have to stay quiet at least, so he couldn't say anything he'd regret.

The thermometer beeped after a moment, and Ryan nodded at the number in satisfaction. It was a little below average, but Michael seems to be mostly recovered from his time in the shower. "98.3," he said, informing Geoff more than anything. The man looked like he was about to pop a blood vessel. Then again, he looked like that a lot when Ryan was around. 

"I'm going to make breakfast; you coming, Gav?" He raised an eyebrow at the Brit, not quite menacing.

"Sure, sounds lovely Ryan." Gavin smirked, obviously glad at the escape route out of the tense room; standing up from the chair and making his way out of the room. Michael wanted nothing more than to beg and plead to not be left alone with Geoff, but he realized that was mostly childish and he could handle it. He itched one of the healing scabs on his chest lightly, careful not to tear through the wound too harshly.

"So," Geoff murmured when the two had left the room, "I- How're your ribs?" He felt overly warm all of a sudden, and couldn't bring himself to take Gavin's seat. So, instead, he just stood there, leaning on the chair-back and feeling supremely awkward.

"They feel better." Michael resisted the urge to reply with a snippy 'oh since you made me walk home? they're great, thanks.' He glanced at Geoff; eyes well trained and cold, he didn't want to show the hurt he was feeling or the regret. He brought his knees up slightly, leaning his arms against them.

The motion made the bed covers bunch awkwardly, revealing a bit of Michael's torso. Geoff's eyes latched immediately onto the small bit of skin and- oh God. Was that another cut? It looked long and purposeful, and there was that feeling in his gut again. Geoff moved around the chair, tugging gently at the blanket with a concerned look on his face, "Is that…?"

Michael was long since passed caring, letting Geoff tug the blankets down as he watched him; he felt the horrible need to cry and he was already wincing for Geoff to utter the words whore to him. He wasn't sure he could take any more anger from the man, so he just didn't respond.

Geoff wasn't angry- okay, that was a lie. He was fucking furious, just not at Michael. He let the feeling settle into his bones as he observed the almost clinically smooth cuts in the man's skin, wincing at the deeper slices near his hipbones. They were fucking symmetrical… Geoff ground his teeth. He'd seen the pictures, read the reports on "James Haywood," also known as the Bloody Romantic by a few, cynical police workers. And if anything proved that he and Ryan Wolfe were one in the same, it was this… the perfect slices in Michael's matched up with the ones he'd seen on the body.

Michael wasn't sure when his breath started to hitch, or when the panicking shaking started to flow through his fingers. He really wasn't one for public panic attacks, or anything of the sort; then again this could hardly be counted as public. He wasn't necessarily ashamed of the cuts, they hadn't hurt and it'd been a nice experience; but he was embarrassed by them, and he knew what Geoff thought about Ryan and he didn't assume this would make him think any better of him. He could already feel himself scampering back away, nails digging painfully into his palms. If he could just calm down, he'd be fine. He just needed to relax, that was all. He just needed a few minutes to calm down.

Geoff forced himself to pull his eyes away from the cuts, not to mention the fading bruises, on Michael's torso, meeting the man's eyes with a mixed expression: scared, and hurt, and angry, and confused all rolled into one. "He hurt you…" It wasn't a question, but a statement, and they both knew it to be true.

Michael furrowed his brows, starting to shake his head no. He guessed it was true, Ryan had hurt him but if Michael told him to do it; could it technically be referred to in the same way? He wasn't so sure. He gnawed on his lip, forcing his eyes away from Geoff and to the door. Sure, Michael, just make it seem like you're more of a victim. He wasn't a victim, he'd never earned that title in his life; he was always the fault, the blame, but never the victim.

Geoff sat on the bed, not taking his eyes off Michael, though he lowered his voice when he saw the man glance towards the door. "It's okay, Michael. You can talk to me." There was a plea under the statement: /Please talk to me, please speak to me. You never tell anyone anything, please just tell me/. Geoff was well aware of it, of how far gone he was. But yeah, he'd do anything to protect Michael, and that included shooting Ryan in the fucking face if it came down to it.

Michael didn't want to talk, he wanted to scream; he didn't want to have a rational conversation he wanted to punch and kick and yell because he didn't have anything to talk about. He didn't know how to address his feelings, he only knew that right now he was seconds away from sobbing and he wasn't too fond of the idea. He wanted to tell Geoff he hated himself, he wanted to tell him that he hated himself ever since he could remember because he was nothing but a burden; everything that happened to him was entirely his fault. He wanted to tell Geoff that everything in his heart hurt because he didn't know why he felt the way he did towards them. He wanted to tell him that he'd never loved anyone in his entire life, and he was still pretty sure he didn't but he wouldn't know even if he was. He wanted to tell Geoff that he was so far past being broken, that he was entirely unfixable. He wanted to tell him everything Ryan told him, every little hint and cue the man had left on his mind. He wanted to tell him that he was nothing but a whore, and Geoff was right. 

He settled for a simple. "I don't know what to say."

"Anything," Geoff chewed at his bottom lip, "Fuckin' say anything." He made an aborted movement, reaching out a hand to cup Michael's cheek, but thinking better of it. He was already in panic mode, and Geoff didn't want to add to that. Michael was complex; he loved being touched in a way that was almost childish in its pure need. But when he was scared, he turned animalistic and lashed out at anything he thought might hurt him. So no matter how much Geoff wanted to pull the man close and wrap his arms around Michael like a protective barrier, he restrained himself.

Michael brought his knees closer to his chest, bringing a knuckle to his mouth and chewed on it to bite back a sob that was trying to force it's way through his throat. He knew Geoff was relying on him to tell him anything, to just say something but the words were stumbling in Michael's throat and getting caught in his pain. "I don't want to be mad at you anymore." The words felt wrong in his mouth, and he was pretty positive that wasn't what Geoff meant by say something; but it was better than nothing and Michael was /trying/.

Geoff let out a sound that he would have described as a 'watery chuckle,' except for the fact that he wasn't crying. "Okay then, so fucking don't be," he shrugged, like it was that easy. "I- we both fucked up… I hate being mad at you too, dude."

Michael furrowed his brows, had Michael fucked something up? He was mostly confused, Geoff had called him a whore and made him walk home; all Michael had done was fuck someone that wasn't Geoff. Ryan had said that it wasn't wrong, but why did he feel so guilty for it? Should he apologize? Was that what Geoff wanted? It felt odd, still being sat here in Ryan's bed, Ryan's house but with Geoff. "You shouldn't have been mad at me..."

Geoff felt a frown tug at the corners of his mouth, and that angry feeling began to bubble up again. "Well, maybe not, but I was," he tried to emphasize the past tense of the word, even if he wasn't sure it was true anymore. Michael still couldn't see it, even after Ryan had- had done /this/ to him. Geoff felt like he was talking to a domestic abuse victim, and it made him cringe.

"It wasn't fair." Michael seethed, shaking his head at him. He wanted to tell Geoff that it really hurt him, that all of this pain was because of him but he couldn't admit the weakness; because really it should've been Michael that knew better than to confide in Geoff and expect him not to get angry and lash out.

Geoff bit back his automatic response that 'Life wasn't fair"; he didn't want to be /that/ guy. The guy who sounded like a fed up parent. "Well, I said I was sorry... Look, can we just get back to-" he gestured vaguely at Michael's torso.

Michael pretended the anger didn't flare up inside his bones at the brushed off apology. He didn't want to get back to Geoff giving him a talk about all the horrible things Ryan was doing to him; and he felt a desperate need to have the man at his side. "Back to what, the cuts? There's nothing to talk about, Geoff." He hissed out, he wasn't making this easy.

"What do you mean there's nothing to talk about?" Geoff glared at him, "I hate to break it to you, Michael, but he fucking tortures people for a living; he-" Geoff bit back his response. He couldn't just tell the man what he'd seen... About Ryan's penchant for cutting open the people he was dating and stringing them up in warehouses.

"I know." Michael answered simply, he wasn't ignorant about what Ryan did or who he was and honestly he felt pretty annoyed that Geoff was treating him like a stupid child. "You run a crime business, Geoff. You have Ray assassinate people and you have Gavin blow them up. How is that any different?" He rubbed at his face tiredly, this whole conversation was bothering him now. Ryan was right, Geoff didn't take blame for anything but he was quick to throw it off to other people.

"I don't kill the people I'm dating!" Geoff said exasperatedly, "I swear to God, Michael, one day he's going to-"

"I'm going to what?" a voice cut in cooly. Geoff went pale at the words, turning to see Ryan standing in the doorway with a plate of eggs and a bowl of cereal balanced on a tray in his hands. The man raised an eyebrow at Geoff, walking over to hand the food to Michael. The look on the tattooed man's face was almost laughable, Ryan though, with the way he was white as a sheet, but still struggling desperately to keep up his bravado.

Michael looked between the two after Ryan interrupted, smiling at the food. He hadn't realized he was as hungry as he was until the smell hit his nostrils and made his stomach rumble. He moved to sit cross legged; grabbing the tray and setting it on the bed. He quickly grabbed some of the eggs on the fork and slid them into his mouth. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Ryan said, sitting on the edge of the bed and further cocking his eyebrow at Geoff.

The tattooed man was pressing his lips together tightly, opening them every now and again as if he was going to say something, but suddenly changed his mind. Finally, Geoff composed himself, casting Ryan a venomous glare, "One day you're going to hurt him."

Michael was a little shocked by the words that fell from Geoff's mouth; along with the glare he was sending him. Geoff could be very threatening when he wanted to be and Michael was already growing a little nervous at Ryan's possible response. "I'm making coffee, who wants some?" Gavin asked, peeking his head in the doorway. "I'm good." Michael answered back, taking a bite of his cereal and trying to avoid the possible confrontation that was going on in front of him.

"I can assure you, Geoff, I'm never going to hurt Michael unless he wants me to," Ryan's voice had an edge to it, confrontational with just a hint of smugness.

Geoff swallowed, understanding the implications… what he meant about the cuts on Michael's chest. But hell if he believed it. Michael wasn't a masochist, and coercion was a word the tattooed man knew well. "Yeah, I believe that," Geoff spat out, the sarcasm heavy on his tongue.

Gavin made a wide eyed face at Michael before skirting from the room, Michael didn't blame the man at all; he was even having a hard time digesting his food with the conversation going on in front of him, about him. He took another bite of the eggs, unsure of what else he was supposed to do in this scenario. He felt mostly unnerved , hand clutching the fork tightly. The conversation still held too much of an eerie casual tone, but Michael felt like this conversation was far from casual.

Ryan shrugged, uncaring, "Ask Michael then." He gave the curls on the man in question a slight ruffle, smirking at the way Geoff practically growled as he did so. "I'm going to help Gavin with that coffee," he slipped off the bed, motions still utterly casual, as if he and Michael were having guests over for brunch rather than… this. Whatever this was.

Geoff glared at Ryan's back as he walked out of the room, only returning his rather concerned gaze to Michael when the man was out of sight.

Michael subconsciously leaned into the touch; taking another bite of the eggs before glancing back up at Geoff. He didn't want to talk about this, whether or not he enjoyed what Ryan did or why he was so enthralled with the man. He coughed lightly, setting down his fork to run a hand along the back of his neck. "He's right, y'know..." He murmured quietly, not at all as confident as he wanted it to sound,

"Michael…" Geoff murmured, sounding more and more worried by the second, "You don't- You don't have to stay here, you know that right? I can drive you back to Gav's and my apartment, and we'll take care of you 'til…" he made a motion to Michael's torso, "/this/ blows over. Alright?"

 

Michael honestly felt like he was being pulled two different ways at this point; part of him wanted nothing more than to go home with Geoff and curl up on his couch; surrounded by the warmth of the two men; but then there was his attachment to Ryan that was urging him to stay; and his bed was amazingly warm and his calm exterior was relaxing. Michael had reached the point where he had a complete inability to make a decision. He could feel himself cracking, bit by bit; and he was desperately resisting the urge to run from the apartment. He wondered briefly if Geoff's apartment would feel less like a home if he returned to it now. He felt a sudden overwhelming feeling that Geoff wasn't letting him make his own decisions and was instead simply trying to coerce him back. "I-I.."

"Michael, please…" Geoff felt that if this went on any longer, he was going to bite a hole in his lip with all the worried gnawing he was doing. He reached out a hand hesitantly, cupping Michael's cheek in his palm and rubbing his thumb in slow circles along it. It was selfish and underhanded to use Michael's extreme tactility to his advantage, he knew, but at this point Geoff would do pretty much anything to get the younger man away from Ryan.

Michael winced at the touch, but felt himself falling into the embrace a little too quickly. He was still unsure, and Ryan's insight to Geoff's personality was winding itself through his thought process. He felt at a loss for himself, molding automatically into whatever the one around him wanted him to be. "But...Ryan." It was a dumb attempt at weighing the pros and cons to leaving, but his eyes were fluttering and he could very clearly note the swelling of tears starting to form.

Geoff shushed him quietly, pulling the younger man into a soft embrace. It was hesitant and loving and familiar in the way Ryan's touches had never been. Geoff was a known quantity, a father figure in Michael's life ever since he was 20, and the way he brushed a hand through the man's curls and even the light, rare kiss on the forehead was something Michael had experienced before. Geoff wanted to be his anchor, as cheesy as it sounded- protective and grounding and ever-present. He silently vowed that Ryan would never get his hands on the younger man again.

Michael broke quickly, falling into the embrace entirely and laying his forehead on the older man's shoulder. He wound his arms around the man's back, trying not to let the sobs fall through him; he didn't want to admit how much he'd missed Geoff, but it was clear that he did at the way his hands were clutching onto the man's shirt. It was official Michael had no will power and no back bone, the familiarities were suffocatingly warm and he couldn't resist.

"You wanna go now, or finish your breakfast?" Geoff asked softly, rubbing Michael's back in slow circles. He'd missed this- well, maybe not the man sobbing into his chest, but the hugs, the casual touches, slinging his arm around Michael's shoulder, the sweet soft kisses that he'd only really experienced the once. He wanted to do more of that.

 

Michael was a little confused, he didn't remember necessarily agreeing. He was getting anxious about Ryan's reaction, whatever it may be. He furrowed his brow, glancing to the food. It didn't matter, he wasn't hungry anymore anyway. "I- ... what about Ryan?"

"Ryan can go suck a dick," Geoff said, before adding, "Preferably someone else's. Come on." He helped Michael out of the bed carefully, looping an arm around the man's shoulders to help him stand. Geoff doubted that the psychopath would force Michael to stay, not with Geoff and Gavin to protect him.

Michael winced at the comment slightly, he was stumbling on his feet but Geoff was holding him up for the most part. He didn't want to explain it to Ryan, even though he didn't think the man would be outwardly upset; he doubted he'd want to speak to Michael for a while. It shouldn't have bothered Michael as much as it did. He felt constricted and like he was choking on his own breath, maybe he could just take off out of the building.

Geoff led them down the hallway and into the living room, where Ryan and Gavin were sipping coffee idly. The Brit was sending the older man nervous looks, but Ryan himself seemed utterly calm, playing with a (very familiar) butterfly knife as he drank.

"Come on, Gav, we're going," Geoff said decisively, jerking his head towards the door. Ryan raised an eyebrow, but the tattooed man paid him no attention, instead turning to Michael, "Where are your clothes?"

"Uh..." Gavin offered a slightly confused look to Ryan before moving to get up from the couch. Michael shrugged his shoulders bashfully, he honestly couldn't remember where they'd been discarded. He gnawed at his lip, breathing starting to speed up at the uncomfortable scene before him.

"I put them in the wash," Ryan remarked coolly, setting down his coffee mug and the knife beside it, "They were a bit… sticky." He offered Geoff an saccharine smile, retrieving Michael's sweatpants and tank top from the dryer in the hall, dangling them on the tips on his fingers mockingly as he held out the clothes to Geoff.

The tattooed man seethed at the comment, but didn't respond, snatching the clothes from Ryan as soon as the man offered them and handing them gently to Michael. He went over to grab a cup of coffee himself, just to spite the psychopath, but kept an eye on Ryan as he did so, sipping the black liquid with a glare.

Michael slid on the sweats, setting a hand on Gavin's shoulder to balance himself as he yanked them up over his hips. He threw the tank top on next; offering an apologetic glance at Ryan; he still felt like the decision wasn't entirely up to him, he could always just tell Geoff he wanted to stay but he knew the man would be significantly more annoyed than Ryan and he really didn't want to ruin the fact that they'd just gotten over their fight.

 

Ryan shrugged, turning away from Michael and grabbing both coffee mug and knife and retiring to his room, though not before giving Michael a wave goodbye with the blade. He wasn't angry, per say, more annoyed that the younger man had been so easily duped into making up with Geoff. Their boss may have been one of the most powerful people in Los Santos, but that didn't mean he wasn't an overly judgmental hypocrite. But this was Michael's decision to make, and far be it from Ryan to stop him just because they'd had sex. Michael may have been his toy, but he didn't own him.

Michael watched Ryan retreat back to his bedroom, before turning his attention to the other two. He was already grabbing at Gavin's arm and pulling him out of the house; desperate to get away from the feeling of wanting to run back to Ryan and apologize profusely.

Geoff finished his coffee, wishing he'd thought to bring a bottle of vodka with him in Gavin's mad rush to see Michael. He slammed down the mug as hard as he could, disappointed when no cracks spiderwebbed across the ceramic. Oh well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and supporting, as always, comments, kudos, anything else is always appreciated!


	18. Chapter 18

Geoff followed the other two men out of the apartment, catching up to them and affectionately putting an arm around Michael's shoulders.

Michael pressed back into the embrace, letting Gavin's arm go as they made their way down the steps of the building. 

"So you decided to come home with us, boi?" Gavin asked cheerfully, grinning over at the curly haired man. 

"Yeah, boi." Michael nodded, the hesitancy was wearing off and he was falling comfortably back into the familiarity of the two men.

Geoff let an easy grin slide onto his face, bumping his hips into Michael's amicably as they waited for the elevator. The doors dinged open, and the group slid past an elderly couple, probably returning from an early brunch. Geoff's smile grew wider as he watched them pass… Maybe one day.

Michael leaned easily against the wall of the elevator, smirking at Gavin when the man kicked his foot against his own; he retorted back with an extended hand to the back of the man's head. The elevator ride was short and Michael let a groan as he pushed away from the wall; heading for the garage.

Geoff snickered at their antics. It was moments like these when the words "his boys" stuck to them more than anything else. Perhaps Michael was the one he was in love with, but Gavin was practically his overgrown, gangly, British son. Well, British /twink/ as his best friend Griffon would say. Geoff clicked the button on his keys that made the car alarm go off, though he didn't need it, really. The thing was such a bright yellow that it stood out even in the drab darkness of the garage.

"Shotgun!" Michael called at Gavin, grunting a moment later when Gavin adjusted himself to latch unto Michael's shoulders.

"That's not fair Michael!" Gavin shouted, moving his hands to pinch playfully at the man's cheeks. 

"No, what's not fair is that fuckin' nose of yours." Michael joked back, sticking his tongue out at the man as he slid into the passenger seat.

"What's not fuckin' fair is that I have to listen to you two idiots gripe about it," Geoff grumbled good naturedly, not bothering to put on his seatbelt as he started up the car.

 

Gavin kicked his feet automatically on the divider between the front seats, lounging out completely in the backseat of the car. Michael rested his arm near the windowsill, greedily thanking the cold air conditioning.

Geoff found his way back to the apartment easily enough, only needing Gavin to direct him a couple of times before they reached it and he pulled into his garage, taking the space next to Gav's ridiculously purple compact. He helped Michael out of the passenger seat, making sure to support him with one arm as they entered the elevator and Geoff pressed the button for his floor.

Gavin trailed along behind them, he had to admit he was happy to see Michael back with them. Unfortunately for Michael, he had a lot of demons and most of the time Gavin didn't really trust him to deal with them so well himself. They at least knew to call Ray if he was suffering from a serious breakdown, Ryan barely knew Michael. Michael glanced around the familiar elevator, trying to resist his hands from gripping too tightly on Geoff, as if the man would leave at any moment.

Geoff noticed the Michael nervousness, squeezing the man's shoulder a little harder as the doors dinged open. "You need me to call Ray?" he asked quietly, leading Michael into their apartment and settling him down on the couch.

Michael shook his head, "No..no I'm fine." he mumbled. He laid back onto the couch, resting his back against it and sighing. Gavin patted Geoff on the back before mumbling something about taking a shower and walking off.

Geoff let one hand run affectionately through Michael's curls, grabbing the remote with the other and channel surfing absently. He was more focused on the warmth of the man beside him and his ever-changing mood than the TV shows he flicked past.

Michael grabbed at Geoff's stomach, fingers clutching onto the material of his shirt as he laid his head against the man's chest and stretched out. It was pathetic and weak, he knew that; but there was just always something about cuddling the man that made him content in whatever issues he was having at that moment.

Geoff smiled, putting down the remote and wrapping his arms around Michael. Some cooking show played on screen, reminding the tattooed man how hungry he was, but he didn't dare move. Michael was just sort of… adorable like this. 

Michael yawned sleepily against the man's chest, it was nice to just not talk for a while if he was being honest.

Geoff spent a comfortable few hours with Michael cuddled up against him, watching the cooking channel. At some point, Gavin came in and they watched Always Sunny reruns at low volume, so as not to disturb the sleeping man. Around 3 o'clock, the Brit ducked out for a "lunch" date, though Geoff teased him about it being a bit too early for that. Perhaps Gavin just wanted to get out of the house; the tattooed man couldn't fault him for that. Even now, there was some lingering tension still hanging in the air.

Michael's sleep had been mostly restless, just lingering between awake and asleep; like expected he didn't have exhaustion on his side to make sleeping easier. He was desperately trying to forget everything that had happened and just continue to curl up into Geoff's warmth. It was always like this after his breakdowns, just a continuing lack of his usual emotions. He could feel his eyes blinking awake before he wanted them to, hands curling absentmindedly in the fabric of Geoff's shirt.

By the time 6 o'clock rolled around, Geoff was cramping in weird places from being sat still for so long, and he was surprised Michael hadn't already been woken up by the rumbling of his stomach. He pressed a gentle kiss into the man's curls, groping for the remote and turning the TV off with a sigh. Even if his legs were asleep, he didn't quite want to wake Michael; he looked so peaceful.

Michael's ears had grown used to the dull sound of the tv, spurring him awake when the tv was turned off. During his restless sleep, he'd almost entirely forgotten where he was and he was more than a little taken aback by the body next to him. He shut his eyes tighter, knees dragging up closer to himself and successfully accidentally kneeing Geoff as he curled in tighter. He took his hands away from Geoff's shirt, wrapping them instead around his own body and letting out a tired breath.

"Ow," Geoff said, but without feeling, "How was your nap, sleeping beauty?" He gave Michael a grin, shifting slightly to wake up his legs.

"Fine." Michael mumbled uncaringly, a yawn falling from him a few moments later. He blinked up at the ceiling, letting the memories of the last few days flood through him. He always hated that part of waking up.

"How are you still tired?" Geoff ruffled the man's hair affectionately, "You've slept for…" he glanced at the clock, "Approximately 8 hours." When he thought about,, Geoff realized that sitting still for that long probably wasn't doing his flabby, alcohol-soaked body any favors. Maybe he should start going to the gym...

"You should try having hypothermia sometime, surprisingly; it really wears you down." Michael replied snarkily, reaching a hand up to playfully pat at Geoff's face before moving into a sitting position. He scrubbed his hands across his face, rubbing the edges of his eyes to stop the blurring.

 

Geoff let out a hum of agreement, stretching his arms as far above his head as they would go, and got a satisfying clicking noise in response. "Are you hungry? Because I think I have some burgers in the freezer that I could grill, or left over pasta if you'd rather."

"Pasta sounds good." Michael mused, scratching at the back of his neck before standing up and arching his back backwards; stretching his arms behind his head and letting out a tired groan. He made his way to the kitchen, full intent on seeing if Gavin had any Red Bull.

Geoff stood, twisting his head to as far as it would go until some of the tension was released. His shoulders still hurt, but that would probably fade given a few hours and maybe a massage. He tried not to entertain the idea of Michael rubbing them, hands covered in massage oil. It was too cliche, even if the image was sexy as hell.

Michael hunched over to grab a red bull from the fridge before shutting it with his foot and jumping up unto the counter. He popped the tab of it, taking a swig and relishing in the cold liquid meeting his throat.

He noted Geoff's discomfort, raising an eyebrow at the man. "Why didn't you sleep in your bed?"

"I didn't really sleep at all, I watched TV, though I did nap for about an hour around 4. You were kind of leaning on me, dude," Geoff gave him a trademark sleepy smile, making his way over to the fridge and pulling out the tupperware container filled with spaghetti noodles.

"You could've just moved me." Michael muttered, but let it go. He was feeling sort of bad that the man wasn't able to get any sleep. He took another sip of the red bull, eyeing the spaghetti hungrily. He reached over to grab a strand of the cold noodles, tilting his head back to eat at it.

Geoff gave him a disparaging look, snatching the container away before Michael could snag another bite. "Do you have no appreciation for good food?" he griped, dishing out the spaghetti onto two plates and grabbing a jar of canned sauce from the counter. It wasn't gourmet or anything, but it was quick and easy. He doled out a couple spoonfuls onto each pile of noodles, sticking one in the microwave and pressing the one minute button.

"Not really." Michael chuckled, offering the man a shrug. He set the red bull on the counter, kicking his feet gently against the wood of the cabinet below the counter. "So what've you been up to lately?"

Geoff shrugged. That should have been a safe subject, but what he'd been doing lately mostly involved moping around the house and thinking about Michael. "Eh, not much. Business, sketching out plans for a new heist, stuff like that. Griffon's been getting some pretty high class clients lately, but other than that, nothing special."

 

"Sounds boring." Michael smirked over at him, glancing over at the beeping of the microwave. He had to admit, the smell of the food alone was causing his stomach to growl hungrily.

Geoff handed the plate over to him, rolling his eyes. "Jesus, I could /hear/ that. How long has it been since you've eaten a decent meal?" He put his own dinner in the microwave, watching the rotating plate with hungry eyes. He had to admit, it smelled fucking delicious.

"It's been a while." Michael admitted, taking the plate greedily and already grabbing a fork; sliding the food into his mouth. He gagged slightly, wincing at the contact of the too hot food burning his mouth. He spit it back out, using his hand to try to get some air into his mouth to cool it down.

Geoff tried to suppress his snicker, but failed miserably as the slight giggle soon turned into an outright guffaw. "Oh my God.." he wheezed, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, "Fucking Christ… I missed this."

Michael let a grin fall on his face at Geoff's reaction, taking a sip of his red bull to try to cool down his mouth faster. "Yeah, thanks asshole." Michael chuckled bitterly, setting the drink down and reaching to take another bite of the noodles but making sure to blow on it first.

Geoff made a face at him, taking his plate out of the microwave and setting it on the counter. He snagged a plastic container of parmesan from the fridge, sprinkling some over his noodles before handing the cheese over to Michael pointedly. The man was a savage.

Michael rolled his eyes but obliged in sprinkling it across his noodles as well. He dug back in quickly, enjoying the flavor and taste of the carbs. He moved to sit cross legged on the counter, setting the plate in his lap and taking a swig of his drink before digging back in.

Geoff shot Michael a look, grabbing a fork and moving around the counter to sit on one of the bar stools. He twirled the pasta around his fork, sticking it into his mouth and sighing at the flavor. Even canned tomato sauce was good when you were hungry.

It didn't take Michael long to finish his food by the way he was stuffing it into his mouth, setting the plate to the side and downing the rest of his Red Bull. "So where'd Gav go?"

"Had a date," Geoff said, swallowing a bite of pasta, "They're probably 'shagging' each other senseless right now, so I doubt he's going to be back until morning." He made sure to twist the British word into an approximation of Gavin's accent, scrunching up his face as he did so. That kid used some weird phrases, and more than a few of them had slipped into Geoff's vocabulary.

"That's an image I didn't need." Michael chuckled, but it was probably the truth; Gavin rarely came home from dates till the next day. He slid off the counter, grabbing his plate and moving over to the sink; turning on the water.

Geoff shrugged, finishing off his dinner with a final slurp. He picked up his plate, moving next to Michael and stealing some of the water as he began rinsing. He grabbed a sponge, scrubbing off the last remnants of pasta sauce as he let his hips bump into the other man's.

Michael set his plate down before grabbing a handful of the soap suds and slapping it playfully against the older man's cheek; breaking off into a fit of giggles and already trying to scamper away from Geoff before he could react. It was childish and playful, but hey; it made him laugh.

Geoff let out a surprised breath at the sudden soapiness of his cheek, wiping it off with a sleeve as he shot Michael a playful glare. "Come back you little brat," he growled, the sincerity of the statement ruined by the light chuckle that came after it.

Michael laughed, scrunching his nose up before shaking his head. "Nope." He wasn't about to get near the water and let Geoff get his revenge; "No such luck, old man." Michael muttered mockingly, sticking his tongue out and walking backwards towards the living room.

Geoff walked after him, shaking his wet hands at Michael threateningly, "Who you calling old? We both know I could beat you in a fair fight." He lunged at the man suddenly, flicking out a hand and spraying Michael with a few droplets of soapy water.

Michael rubbed the water off of his face, laughter falling through him at the silliness of the entire situation. He darted past Geoff; grabbing the empty can of red bull and quickly filling it with water. "You'd probably fall over and start complaining of back pain within a few minutes." Michael joked, turning around and lifting the can threateningly.

"Wanna test that theory?" Geoff quirked an eyebrow and gave the younger man a dangerous smirk, advancing on Michael slowly, well aware of the can of water the man had poised to douse him with. He cast his gaze around quickly, eyes alighting on a glass of water on the counter. He darted for it, grabbing the glass and holding it in a similarly threatening position.

Michael laughed at their positions, both of them holding water above their hands and side stepping each other. He lunged forward, attempting to spill some of the water unto Geoff all the while trying to block Geoff's glass with his arm before moving in an attempt to step back.

Geoff spluttered, glaring at Michael as he made an attempt to wring out his now-soaking shirt with one hand. He sloshed the liquid in his own glass forward, eyes widening when the scent of vodka hit his nose. Okay, not water then. He danced back, trying to avoid any more water Michael might send his way.

Michael growled at the smell of vodka, glancing down at his now wet sweat pants. "Asshole, you can't use alcohol!" Michael moved forward; grabbing at Geoff with the hand not holding up the water, feet slipping out from under him as they tumbled to the floor. He landed with an light 'oof' but didn't remove his arm from around the older man, instead letting the water pour over him.

Geoff laughed as he tumbled to the floor, making a distressed noise as the glass in his hand tipped over, spilling its contents over Michael's torso. He landed in a sprawl on top of the younger man, letting the glass roll across the floor as he tried to catch himself. He ended up with his soaking wet shirt pressed into Michael's face, the rest of his body covering the man like an overly weighty blanket. The empty can of Red Bull Michael was holding dug into his arm, in all likelihood leaving a red circle on the skin.

Michael groaned at the weight but otherwise didn't complain, they were drenched; utterly soaked in a mix of vodka and water. He moved slightly when Geoff finally lifted himself up somewhat; grinning up at the older man as soft chuckles ran through him. He tossed the can to the side, meeting Geoff's eyes with his own. "How's your back?" He asked mockingly.

Cat Astrophe: "Fine," Geoff said petulantly, sticking out his tongue at the younger man. Actually, his back was still a little sore from his time on the couch, but he wasn't going to tell Michael that. He rolled off the man, letting the water covering the tile floor of the kitchen soak his shirt even further. It was just water and vodka, two of the things Geoff was made out of.

Michael sat up, patting playfully at Geoff's cheek. "I definitely won." He smirked, squeezing his tank top to try and get some of the water out of it; not that it mattered, his clothes were entirely wet anyway.

"I beg to differ," Geoff snorted, "I'm pretty sure vodka is a weapon of mass destruction, and you've got a shirt-full of it." He sat up, tugging his damp shirt over his head and tossing it onto the counter.

"Doesn't matter, I won." Michael refused stubbornly, watching Geoff tug off his shirt. He thought briefly about doing the same, what with the way the alcohol was starting to sting his cuts; but decided against it. He really didn't want to be shirtless on the floor with Geoff, or maybe he did. He wasn't too sure anymore.

Geoff stood, offering a hand out to Michael. "Fine, you win. You win being the best at water fights. There's no trophy and now we're both wet."

Michael took his hand, getting to his feet and trying not to slip on the watery tiles. "Well, you shouldn't have started the fight." Michael smirked cheekily.

"Says the man who slapped soapy water on my cheek," Geoff said dryly. "You need some new clothes?" he asked, trying to avoid staring at the way Michael's tank top clung to his skin and the intoxicating smell of vodka coming from the man.

 

"Oh, no you know. Just thought I'd stay in vodka drenched clothes all night." Michael rolled his eyes, cocking a hip and setting his hand on it.

Geoff snorted; Michael practically screamed "sassy" and he loved every second of it. "Fine then, come on," he shook his head, motioning the younger man to follow him to his room.

Michael followed the man along to his room, hand absentmindedly trailing against the wall as he did so. He wasn't sure why Geoff was leading him, it wasn't like he didn't know where his clothes were or anything.

When they reached his room, Geoff dug around in his dresser, slipping on a dry shirt and grabbing a new pair of boxers and sweats to go with it. The seat of his jeans was wet from sitting on the floor and it wasn't the most comfortable feeling. He began to wiggle out of his pants, mindless of the fact that Michael was still in the room.

Michael tried to cover up the hitch in his breath, damn Geoff's lack of embarrassment. Michael knew his clothes were in the dresser as well, but he didn't really want to go anywhere near Geoff while he was undressing; so he leant up against the wall and waited lamely.

Geoff slid out of his wet boxers, pulling on the new pair and the sweatpants over them, sighing contentedly at the dry feeling. He flopped back onto his bed, intending to close his eyes and perhaps take a nap for a moment, before his eyes caught Michael's and he noticed the subtle flush of the man's cheeks. Geoff felt his face grow pink, turning his gaze away awkwardly.

Michael sighed at the fact that Geoff laid down on the bed instead of leaving; but walked forward to the dresser anyway. He could always just change in the bathroom, but that seemed a little too dramatic. He grabbed the back of his tank top, tugging it over his head before bending down to grab out one of his boxers and sweats. He grabbed out a shirt a moment later, deciding he didn't really want his cuts on view right now. He tugged his sweats and boxers down quickly, stepping out of them before pulling the fresh boxers over his hips.

Geoff looked away, pointedly not letting his gaze drift over Michael's skin. He burrowed slightly into his sheets; why did the man have to be so damn attractive? It was more aggravating than usual, with the lingering tension over Ryan still in the air and the fact that now he knew what it felt like to actually touch Michael.

Michael slipped on the sweats as well, before tugging the new t-shirt over his head and glancing back to Geoff. He gnawed on his lip softly before tossing his clothes into the laundry and heading to the door, planning on letting the older man sleep since he hadn't gotten any.

Geoff sighed, head sinking onto the pillow as he closed his eyes, letting exhaustion and dreams of Michael take him. Just a couple of hours; it was only 6:30, after all.

Michael grabbed a few towels and mopped up the vodka and water, kicking the towels to the side before jumping over the top of the couch and flopping onto the plush seat. He turned on the TV, attempting to distract himself from his thoughts. He set it to some shitty movie and attempting to pay attention to the lousy plot line.

Geoff awoke after a few hours, judging by the glowing numbers on his alarm clock. For once in what felt like years, he didn't wake up to a pounding headache and sinking feeling in his stomach. It wasn't a "ready to face the world" feeling, but it was enough. He rolled out of bed, plodding easily into the living room, rubbing his eyes.

Michael looked up at the noise of someone walking into the living room. "Hey Geoffers." Michael remarked happily, grin appearing on his face cheerily.

"Hey," Geoff responded, giving the man a smile and dropping next to him on the couch, "Whatcha watching?"

"Some shitty show about criminals." Michael shrugged, glancing over at the TV. It was a dumb show, the criminals weren't even true criminals; just drugstore wannabes.

"Wanna watch Game of Thrones instead?" Geoff asked, throwing his arms over the back of the couch, one of them almost draping over Michael's shoulders, "Gav and I haven't watched it yet, and we can save it for him."

"Yeah, alright." Michael agreed, he wondered briefly how long they were going to do this. Just the casual conversations, but neither one of them addressing the actual tension. Michael didn't assume it was just going to fade away.

Geoff grabbed the remote, flicking up the DVR menu and pressing play. He relaxed as the familiar starting music washed over them and the warnings popped up. The "Last Time on Game of Thrones" was filled with gore and the torsos of half naked men and women, but Geoff couldn't bring himself to pay attention; it all reminded him a bit too much of Ryan, what with Theon being tortured and all.

Michael watched the screen absentmindedly, bringing his legs to rest up on the coffee table as the show started and shit happened. He honestly wasn't as dedicated to the show as Gavin and Geoff, and had really just ended up watching it because of the two. He scratched at his chest lightly, nails nicking slightly against the scabbing wounds.

The episode passed by quickly; mostly filler and set-up, strung together with a couple of brothel scenes to tie it all together. It was a bit more awkward than he would of liked, Michael utterly disinterested in the fucking that was going on onscreen (mostly in the name of fan service, if Geoff was being nitpick), while he himself couldn't help but shift uncomfortably, slightly more turned on than he would've liked to admit, but that was mostly because Michael was right fucking next to him.

Michael honestly was a lot less in tune to sexual scenes being shown on tv or anything else, he'd become skilled in the act of casually watching porn with groups of guys due to a lack of privacy back when; well that and the fact that it was girls, but he could clearly note when Geoff started shifting. Ametuer, Michael thought before arching an eyebrow at the man. "A little uncomfortable there, Geoff?" He teased, albeit a bit rudely.

Geoff cut his eyes to the side, giving Michael a withering look, “Yeah, laugh it up asshole. But if it wasn’t chicks boning on screen, you’d be just as uncomfortable as I am.” Geoff was almost envious at the way the younger man was completely unaffected by the sheer amount of boobs on screen… then again, Geoff got the best of both worlds when it came to attraction, so he didn’t really have a right to complain.

"You'd be surprised." Michael chuckled, glancing back over to Geoff's slightly shifting hips before darting his attention back to the screen. He lifted a hand to rub the curls back from his face, he really could use a hair cut sometime soon; they were growing unruly.

Geoff let out a slightly relieved breath when the scene changed, and the rest of the episode passed without incident, the tattooed man too engrossed in the show to talk much until the end credits rolled. He shut off the TV, making sure to save the episode for Gavin when he got home from his date.

Michael took the opportunity to bring out his phone and scroll aimlessly through texts. He tapped his foot against the coffee table, ignoring Geoff for the most part.

Geoff sighed into the silence; there was that tension again. It physically hurt, how easy it had been with Michael up to this point. But Ryan had to butt in, decide to make Michael his boy-toy, and ruin everything. It made him angry in the worst kind of ways; the say something you'll regret to the guy you're in love with way, for one.

Michael gritted his teeth at the sigh Geoff let out, bracing himself for the inevitable conversation. He was still a little on the emotional side, no matter how well he masked it and he wasn't sure how much of Geoff's protective side he could take. He already knew the man's feelings in reference to Ryan; there was literally nothing else that could be said that would make a difference.

"I-" Geoff started, letting the word hang indecisively in the air for a few moments before continuing, "Look, can we talk?" It was just about the lamest thing he'd ever heard, but it was all he could come up with.

 

Michael glanced up at him before nodding and setting his phone to the side and moving his feet to criss cross under him. "Alright." Michael agreed, eyeing the man warily and trying not to start the conversation defensively. "What's on your mind, Geoffrey?"

Geoff bit his lip, "I just- I mean we… And you didn't- I said I was in love with you." He tripped over his words at an alarming pace, as if they might burn his tongue if he kept them in too long. He flushed, not daring to meet Michael's eyes.

Michael winced, he really had hoped that wasn't the conversation Geoff was wanting to have. "Yeah, you did." Michael nodded, he still hadn't come to terms with how he felt about it. Was he in love with Geoff? He didn't know, sort of. "I don't know how you want me to respond to that..."

"I /want/ you to say that you love me too, and for everything to be sunshine and fucking daisies, and we'll get married, and have gaybies together," Geoff said bitingly, sarcasm heavy on his tongue, "What I want doesn't fucking matter, Michael. Just…" He rubbed his face with his hands, running them back into his hair, "Just tell me the truth, alright?"

Michael flinched at the sarcastic tone, looking away from Geoff and towards the window; trying to get his thoughts under control. The truth? Michael didn't even know the truth at this point in his life, he was so used to faking everything that it was hard to determine what was real and what was a lie. He glanced back at him, eyes staring down at his hands. 

"I don't know what the answer is." Michael admitted, he knew he had affection for Geoff and he knew he craved his touches and his persona; was that love? Is that what it meant? Michael didn't ever understand the examples of love people gave; it just confused him.

Geoff sighed, subconsciously curling into himself a little. "It's not a damn math question… just, how do you feel? Fucking… talk about your feelings and shit." He ran a hand through his hair, stress plaguing his every action. Relationships were hard, but sometimes bottling up your emotions was harder; someone had to be the adult here, and it damn well wasn't going to be Michael.

Michael took a breath, he could tell his nervousness was probably pouring off of him at this point. Michael Jones didn't do feelings, he did anger and rage and fighting and sometimes the occasional comforting touch, well okay a lot of comforting touch, but he certainly didn't talk about his emotions, especially when they revolved around love. Yet here he was, bracing himself to open up to Geoff. "I- I like you, I like being with you. But, I don't know if I'm /in/ love with you. I didn't even know you thought of me in that way until a few weeks ago... I'm..confused, I guess?"

"I- Okay, that's fine. Like, I didn't expect you to declare your undying love for me or anything," Geoff shrugged, trying to act as if he didn't find this just as difficult as Michael did. Sure, he'd dated, but it was always a slow progression of intensity, not the sudden downpour of drama that his relationship with the younger man had produced. "I've been… fucking /infatuated/ with you for a long time. It… crept up on me, and I had a breakdown and a drink, and I dealt with it. So yeah, I understand confused."

Michael took a second before nodding, moving his knees up closer to his chest and resting his chin on them. Okay, so that hadn't been /so/ hard. He didn't answer back, he'd opened up enough already and he was thankful for his heart closing off again. He resisted the urge to kiss the older man, choosing instead to look back out the window.

"So, dating… maybe?" Geoff asked, wincing at the hope in his voice. Fucking pathetic, that's what it was. He let his eyes slide away from Michael, looking down at his palms instead.

"Geoff, I don't date." Michael murmured, it was the truth too. Michael hadn't dated since Jackson, and even that was a special circumstance. He either dated him or he was out on the street, with Geoff there was no fear of that..so there was no reason to date.

"Why not?" Geoff pried, giving the man a look that was a cross between curious and concerned- whether for himself or Michael, even he didn't know. "You never did tell me…" He knew the man's life had been rough, but there were more than a few details that Michael kept close to his chest. In all likelihood, not even Ray knew them.

Michael really didn't want to have this conversation, not about his past. He'd been through that shit and he wasn't itching to go back to all the hurt he'd experienced. "It's just something I don't do, Geoff.. before I came here there was only one other guy; okay? I had to date him, it wasn't a choice and since then I just don't do it." He knew his excuse was vague, but hell if he was gonna tell Geoff about all the shit that man put him through.

"What do you mean you had to?" Geoff asked, furrowing his brow. He didn't even touch on the fact that he'd never heard of Michael having a relationship with anyone, past or present. And yeah, he was a nosy bastard, but part of him felt like he had a right to know… or at least a right to ask.

"It was either do what he wanted or live out on the streets; I wasn't exactly itching to spend any more nights by the dumpster." Michael hissed out, he /really/ didn't want to have this conversation. He left off the information about him being barely eighteen; or the fact that it was the guy who ran the orphanage. Or the fact that he'd had eyes for Michael ever since he was fifteen. All details Geoff didn't need to know.

Geoff looked away, regretting pushing the subject. He cursed the fact that this just made him want Michael more, to hold him and make him feel like he was worth something other than a selfish fuck and a side glance. He doubted that would be appreciated right now, instead just waiting for Michael to offer more information, or change the subject entirely.

 

Michael sighed, hands moving to rub across his face. "He wasn't /that/ bad; really. Nothing I couldn't handle, but I was way fuckin' young." and I thought it was what love was.Michael left off the end, he didn't need to rehash anymore of his life tonight, or maybe he did. He sometimes forgot that no one actually knew most of his stories, Ray knew a few but they were just drunken rambles and he didn't think they made too much sense.

Geoff nodded slowly, bringing a hand to rest hesitantly on Michael's leg, "It doesn't have to be like that, you know. It's just- it's just this, but more."

It's just waking up next to you and making you breakfast. It's having water fights in the kitchen, but being able to lick the vodka off your stomach and kiss you 'til we're both drunk on /something/. It’s going out on dinner dates and paying for dinner. It’s watching you blush and being able to kiss every one of your freckles. It’s fucking you and calling it “making love” because that’s what it is; a physical manifestation of everything I’ve felt for God knows how long. It’s being able to say “I love you” and having you say it back to me one day. It’s just this but so much more; it’s vast an infinite and something I can’t say out loud because you won’t understand… you can’t understand until you’ve experienced it, and you won’t believe me and you’ll run.

Michael was tempted to say okay, to let them try it out; that was all. However, Michael wasn't too ignorant to understand that he was too much for that; he'd never be able to stay and cuddle with Geoff and feel content in their relationship. He knew he'd get upset one night and get drunk and have one night stands and hurt Geoff in more ways than he wanted to. Geoff had only ever always been amazing and welcoming to him, and he wasn't about to destroy that with his own issues. He hadn't ever even coped with his past relationship, there was no way he was about to be able to start a new one, especially not with someone as intense and passionate as Geoff. 

"I'm not ready." Michael admitted weakly, probably the most vulnerably honest he'd ever been in his entire life. It sucked.

Geoff's face fell visibly, and he knew it. He tried to compose his expression into something that didn't resemble a kicked puppy, rubbing Michael's leg in slow circles as he did so. "What do you want to do then?" he asked softly, not daring to meet the man's eyes.

Michael could feel his impulse to run kicking in, the entire situation becoming too much too fast and Geoff's expression made him feel sick to his stomach. Where the rubs would seem comforting, now they just made Michael feel like his head was spinning. Geoff wouldn't look at him and he felt the harsh feeling of messing something up between the two; maybe he should've just said yes. "I-I.."

Geoff glanced up at him, slightly surprised by the nervous look in the man's eyes. "We have options," he said slowly, trying to suss out if Michael even knew what those options were. "I don't want to… lose you, or whatever," he murmured, tacking on the last part of the sentence to remove some of the cheesiness from the phrase.

Michael frowned; he felt entirely too unsure over this new conversation. Options seemed like the last thing they had right now, they either dated or they didn't; that was all. This entire conversation felt like it was drowning him slowly. He flinched at the next sentence, he hadn't even thought about this ending their friendship, or relationship; or whatever it was they had going. It sent a panic to his stomach, was he prepared to be entirely on his own again? Not really so much. He tried to remain as calm as he could manage, nodding slowly.

"I mean," Geoff muttered, flushing, "Like we could fuck around or whatever, and not date… 'til you're ready and stuff." He looked up at Michael hopefully. He knew the statement implied that the man would actually /be ready/ someday, but Geoff allowed himself to indulge in that fantasy.

Michael cracked when Geoff gave him that hopeful puppy look, at least he could make Geoff somewhat happy. He nodded, less eagerly and more relieved but it was a nod never the less. He moved forward to hug Geoff, arms tugging across the man's back and burying his face in his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading you guys! (: Comments and Kudos are so so so welcome! We adore hearing from you.


	19. Chapter 19

Geoff started, surprised by the sudden affection, but returned it in kind; wrapping his arms around Michael and resting his chin on the top of the man's head, breathing in the smell of his hair. After a moment, he pulled away, cupping Michael's cheek in the palm of his hand and kissing him gently. He separated their lips almost immediately, searching the other man's eyes for any form of discomfort, "Is this… okay?"

Michael's thoughts strayed momentarily to Ryan, he could practically hear the condescending laughter coming off of him as he muttered something about always running back. Michael couldn't help that it was true, he knew it; he'd always come back to Geoff and surely Ryan should've expected that when he left. He tried to tell himself that he didn't matter to Ryan anyway, it wasn't like he really wanted to deal with Michael all the time. He brought his attention back to Geoff, working to put the other man out of his mind for at least a while. He nodded briefly, forcing their lips back together quickly; it was gentle, precise and full of welcome that he couldn't help fall into automatically.

Geoff smiled into the kiss, losing himself in the press of the man's lips on his own. He snaked a hand up into Michael's hair, stroking it languidly. The man's hair was so deliciously pull-able that he couldn't resist a slight tug, skimming his other hand down Michael's arm.

Michael moved his hands along Geoff's chest, fingers tracing along the tattoos. He moaned at the tug on his hair, relishing softly in the tinge of pain. He opened his mouth against the kiss, licking at Geoff's bottom lip slowly.

Geoff opened his mouth to the kiss, generally letting Michael dominate their interaction. He didn't want to go too fast, didn't want to push the man into anything he wasn't ready for… but at the same time, okay, yeah; he did want to push Michael onto the bed and fuck him senseless, telling him what a good boy he was. But that was neither here nor there.

Michael slid his tongue inside, tilting his head slightly so that he could properly make out with the older man. Geoff was giving him too much time to think and it was starting to bother him, so he grabbed at the man's hips and laid back; forcing Geoff on top of him. He grinded his hips up, rotating them slowly and letting out a soft whine. As different as Geoff and Ryan were, he knew they did find the general same things on Michael attractive; just one preferred him covered in blood was all.

Geoff made a startled noise when Michael pulled him forward, letting out a groan when the man whined and circled his hips upward. This was all coming to a head rather quickly, but looking down at Michael, desperate and flushed beneath him, Geoff found he didn't really care. He ground his hips downwards, grinning at the other man, "You look really fucking good like this…"

Michael flushed redder at the compliment, small grin breaking onto his face at the praise. He led his fingers across Geoff's arms, caressing the colorful prints lightly. "I just think you're still horny from Game of Thrones." Michael joked teasingly, but shimmied his hips up against the older man's.

"Oh really?" Geoff arched an eyebrow, "Then what are you horny from?" He ducked in to press a kiss to Michael's jaw line, moving down to nibble the skin of his neck. He let Michael grind up against him, returning the friction in kind with a slow roll of his hips.

"Hm, you. Definitely you." Michael grunted, leaning his neck back to allow Geoff more room. He moaned at the feeling of them pressing together, letting his fingers grip at Geoff's upper arms to leverage himself to press up harsher.

Geoff chuckled at the cheesy line, but felt himself blush anyways. "Bedroom?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow when Michael moaned. He didn't want to make a habit of fucking on the couch.

"Fine." Michael rolled his eyes, pushing Geoff off of him by the shoulders and flopping unceremoniously from the couch, before standing up straighter and winding his arms around Geoff's neck and starting to walk backwards towards his room. He mouthed at the other man's lips, fingers trailing at the ends of his hair.

Geoff smiled into the kiss, pressing his lips gently against Michael's. He let his fingers trail reverently over the man's body, tracing every dip and curve of his skin as if to memorize it. His trance was broken, however, when Michael tripped over a bundle of clothing near his bedroom door. Geoff snorted, pushing the pile to the side with his foot.

"Stupid clothes." Michael mumbled, rolling his eyes at Geoff's snort. He pushed Geoff unto the bed gently; standing back and teasingly sliding his shirt over his head.

Geoff bit his lip, letting his eyes drift over Michael's pale torso. The man was still bruised from his kidnapping, and his flesh was marked by red, symmetrical lines that made the tattooed man's stomach curl unpleasantly. He unbuttoned his jeans, trying to distract himself from the feeling as he slid the pants off and tossed them to the side.

Michael slid his sweats down over his hips before stepping out of them and clambering over to Geoff. He slid his knees on either side of him, before winding his arms around the man's neck and pressing a kiss to his mouth. He let his hips grind down against him slowly, fingers tangling into Geoff's hair.

Geoff opened his mouth to Michael, letting out a low moan at the friction. He laid back, letting the other man control their actions, unsure of how far he wanted to go. The last thing Geoff wanted was to cock this up when they'd only started repairing their relationship.

 

Michael pulled back, eyes squinting down at the man below him. His hesitancy was starting to rub off on Michael, and he could feel the worried concern growing in his stomach. Even though he seemed to be enjoying himself, he was barely even touching Michael. "Is something wrong?"

Geoff furrowed his brow, coming out of his lust-filled haze to stare up at the other man, "What? No. Why would you think that?" He slid his hands over Michael's back, rubbing the skin gently.

Michael took a second to think of the right response, "You just seem out of it is all." Michael mumbled. Geoff was acting as if Michael would break any second, and it was starting to bother him; he never should've told Geoff about his ex. This was the exact reason he didn't tell anyone the stories, their eyes almost always held pity afterwards.

"I'm not," Geoff offered him a gentle smile, pulling the other man back to him. He kissed Michael like he was a priceless work of art, one of the spindly, more modern ones you see in museums nowadays: gentle and reverent, afraid to break him and unsure if he even deserved to touch the man. He rolled them over, bracketing Michael's hips with his knees, moving his lips to spatter tiny kisses against his neck and jawline.

Michael kissed back lightly, very nearly whining when Geoff rolled them over. At least he wasn't acting like he was incapable of moving now; he let out a few breathless moans when Geoff kissed as his jaw line. He let his fingers dance across Geoff's back, sliding them across his shoulder blades and dipping his fingers in the different crooks of his muscles. He was a little unsure of the slowness, everything seemed measured and precise; though it wasn't necessarily a bad feeling, it was just sort of satisfying in the best sort of ways.

Geoff smiled at the sounds Michael was making, letting himself take over almost entirely. Apparently the younger man liked others to take the lead; he could work with that. He kissed his way down Michael's chest, carefully avoiding the scabbing cuts on the man's torso and pausing to click Michael's nipple with his tongue. He made sure to keep being gentle, even as he teased the man with slow rolls of his hips.

Michael let his head loll back onto the bed, a slight shiver running through him when Geoff's tongue flicked against his nipple. He groaned at the roll of Geoff's hips, squirming against him as he tried to add to the friction. He tangled his hands in the older man's hair, pulling softly at the ends. The slow pace was overstimulating to say the least and Michael could already feel himself unraveling bit by bit.

Geoff stopped when he got to Michael's hips, frowning at the cuts sliced into the skin. On impulse, he pressed a soft kiss to one of them, as if his lips could heal whatever damage Ryan had done to the younger man. He almost wished that Michael's ex had left scars too, if only so that he could kiss them away. Wounds of the mind were harder to wipe off, and no matter how many times he kissed the younger man's forehead, he'd never know the extent of the damage the man had left.

Michael glanced down at Geoff when he kissed at the cut Ryan had left, he shifted slightly; moving to grab Geoff's face and pull him back closer to his lips. He pressed their lips together gently before wrapping his arms around Geoff's neck and burying his face into the crook of his neck. "I'm sorry," his voice was almost near a whisper and he wanted to curse at himself when he felt fresh tears pricking at the sides of his eyes. He fought the urge to beg Geoff not to hate him.

Geoff cupped Michael's cheek in his palm, giving the man a brief kiss on the nose, "It's okay…" he murmured, stroking Michael's skin with the pad of his thumb. He didn't blame the younger man for this, not really. It was Ryan's fault; the sick bastard knew how to twist people's emotions until they'd do anything he wanted. Geoff should know; that very quality was the reason he hired the man in the first place.

Michael nodded briefly, taking a few seconds to calm his breathing down before moving to kiss at Geoff's neck; gentle pecks that were probably a little more needy than he wanted them to seem. He was mentally cursing himself for ruining every moment with one of his stupid emotions; he really needed to work on feeling less. He slid his hands across Geoff's arms, fingers tiptoeing across the colored skin.

Geoff grinned; he loved it when people admired his tattoos. It had been almost hellishly painful getting the first, but over time the pain seemed to matter less and less as the skin of his arms began to fill with bright patches of color. It was an art form, well worth the sharp needles and red skin to emblazon himself with his life story. It was a work in progress, detailing life events and loves, certain feelings sketched out as flowers or geometric shapes on his torso. He'd gotten one for Michael about a year ago; a two-faced theater mask with auburn, curly hair sticking out over the top, tucked away on the inside of his bicep, just below the curve of where his armpit met his torso. It was small and unobtrusive, but it was one of Geoff's favorites.

Michael lifted Geoff's hand closer to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to the tattoo across the top of his hand. He sucked slightly before moving higher up along his arm; pressing repeated kisses to the vivid tattoos and mouthing at the ones that were his favorites. It was oddly intimate and Michael was once again reminded of his own varying emotions, with Geoff everything was personal; every touch, every kiss hit his core and made him feel. With Ryan, it was a little less intimate and more about raw need; there were no random stops to just trace each others bodies.

Geoff let out a contented noise, pulling Michael's mouth to his. "You're fucking perfect, you know that?" he murmured, not daring to put more than a few inches of space between their lips as he spoke. "Just fucking beautiful," he kissed Michael on the corner of the mouth to accent the word.

Michael felt the shivers run through him before he could hide the fact that the words turned him on more than they probably should have. He slid his hands to rest on Geoff's stomach lightly, eyes fluttering at the kisses. He hummed quietly, letting his nose bump against Geoff's.

"So how do you want to…?" Geoff motioned to their nearly naked bodies, both of them clad only in their boxers at this point. The older man shifted, his dick half-hard underneath the fabric, but unwilling to do anything until Michael gave him the okay.

Michael smirked, rolling his eyes cheekily, before leaning closer to the man's ear. "Fuck me, Geoff." He murmured huskily, hand reaching down to lightly palm Geoff's hard on.

Geoff let out a low moan at Michael's husky tone, rutting up into the man's hand involuntarily. "I- yeah, okay. I can do that," he stammered, trying not to lose himself in the friction. It was a light touch, but it was /Michael/ and that more than anything was enough to make Geoff come undone. He sat up, leaning over to grab a bottle of lube and a condom from his bedside table, tossing them onto the bed.

Michael felt triumphant for Geoff's stuttering, feeling a rush of power from the fact that Geoff was already more than willing; he didn't need to prompt the older man at all. He let his fingers snap at the waistband of the man's boxers, smirk growing at the lusty eyes Geoff was currently sporting.

Geoff flushed, giving Michael a mock glare, and tried to wipe the cocky expression of his face with an open mouthed kiss, one hand fumbling around for the lube as he flicked his tongue into Michael's mouth. He pulled away once his fingers closed around the bottle, squeezing some onto a finger and motioning for Michael to take off his boxers with a smirk.

Michael moaned into the kiss, face flushing visibly once he pulled away. He nodded in affirmation at the motion, sliding his boxers off and groaning at the removal of the constricting fabric. He couldn't resist winding one hand down to give himself a little relief, stroking languidly as he waited for Geoff to instruct him further.

Geoff shot Michael a cheeky grin, crawling in between the man's legs and kissing him languidly. He gently pushed Michael's legs apart, tracing the creases of his asshole with his finger before slowly working it in, ready to stop if the man showed any signs of discomfort. He nibbled on Michael's neck, the hand not stretching him open giving the man's cock a few, slow strokes in distraction.

Michael kissed back easily, groaning into his mouth at the feeling of Geoff's finger prodding against him. He was about to lace his arms around Geoff's back, but thought better of it due to the fact that he didn't think he'd be able to without scratching some nasty red lines unto the man's skin. He instead wound his hands into the sheets of the bed, clenching and unclenching against the mattress. He moaned loudly when Geoff's other hand found it's way to his dick, hips already starting to buck up against the touches and fingering. "F-fuck."

Geoff let out a moan at the sounds Michael was making, removing his hand from Michael's dick to stroke his curls. He added a second finger, scissoring them slowly and making sure the man was thoroughly stretched. He sat back, admiring the sight of Michael flushed and panting beneath him, cock twitching against his stomach. "Oh my God," he groaned, "Michael- fuck. You look so fucking good like this…"

Michael whined loudly at the compliment, hips bucking up of their own accord as he moved to grab at the waistband of Geoff's boxers. "N-need you now, Geoff." He moaned out, tugging down the man's boxers the best he could with the way his hands were fumbling.

Geoff shook his head, but let out a whimper when Michael's fingers brushed over his dick. "Jesus Christ, let me finish stretching you," he panted breathlessly. Hurting Michael was the last thing he wanted to do. Geoff added a third finger quickly, twitching forward in search of the man's prostate.

Michael rolled his eyes, but grinded against Geoff's fingers never the less. He bucked up helplessly when the man found the bundle of nerves; "Ah, ah, shit." He let his fingers stroke Geoff languidly, tightening occasionally when Geoff stretched him. He moaned impatiently, hand on Geoff's hip gripping harshly. "Geoff." He extended the man's name pitifully, biting at his bottom lip and letting his head loll backwards.

Geoff felt heat spread over his face at the way Michael called his name, quickly removing his fingers and lining himself up with the man's hole and pushing in slowly. He stopped, taking a moment to enjoy the tight heat of the younger man, burying his face in Michael's shoulder. "Jesus Christ… you're so fucking perfect," he panted, thrusting in slowly, "So fucking good, Michael." He uttered the name like a prayer.

Michael squinted his eyes at the slight discomfort, though it quickly switched to pleasure and Michael was already whining loudly. The compliments only helped his body in shuddering under the older man, his name on Geoff's lips sending waves of arousal over him. "F-fuck.. ah, god you feel so good." Michael murmured back, hands moving to tighten around Geoff's back; lightly scratching at the skin there.

Geoff moved his hands up to tangle in Michael's curls as he pulled his hips back, picking up a slow rhythm. He kept his gaze locked on the other man's, pressing quick, bruising kisses to his lips in time with every thrust, beginning to quicken his pace. In between kisses, when his lips weren't otherwise occupied, he murmured complements down at Michael, full sentences rapidly degrading into a panted "fucking amazing," "perfect," "such a good boy," and the occasional "I love you," though he tried to bite those back as often as possible.

Michael was all moans and whimpers in return, his coherency quickly depleting into half words and murmurs and the occasional breath of Geoff's name. He moved his fingers into Geoff's hair, clenching and unclenching the strands as the waves of pleasure shook through him. He was biting back his orgasm only a few moments later, desperate not to get off embarrassingly fast just due to the compliments.

Geoff bit into Michael's shoulder as he came, trying not scream the man's name, moaning it into the flesh instead. He noticed belatedly that, in the heat of things, he hadn't even bothered to put on a condom and flushed in embarrassment. Hopefully that wouldn't come back to bite him in the ass; he supposed he'd find out next month's checkup. He reached down a hand, jerking Michael off at the same pace he'd been thrusting his hips, "Come on, Michael," he murmured, sucking a light hickey into the man's neck, "Come for me."

Michael got some odd high off of Geoff coming first, though he wasn't far behind; especially not when Geoff started to jerk him off. He didn't bother covering up his yell as he came into Geoff's hand and across his stomach, fuck Geoff's neighbors they could deal with the noise. His body shivered slightly aftershocks of pleasure racing through him as he fell limp back against the bed.

Geoff pulled out, flopping on the bed beside Michael and letting out a contented sigh. "Sorry about…" he said after he'd caught his breath, making a motion towards the man's asshole, which was leaking semen slightly. He made a face; this is why he wore condoms, besides the obvious: so much less clean up.

"Whatever, I'll just take a bath in a few minutes." Michael murmured uncaringly, it was a little uncomfortable but he was riding the aftershocks a little too much to care at the moment. It was just as much his fault as it was Geoff's anyway. "You're cleaning the bed though." Michael chuckled, eyes fluttering lightly.

"Fine," Geoff grumbled, rolling over and wrapping his arms around Michael, squeezing a bit tight in retaliation to the quip. He felt muzzy and placated, ready to curl into the other man and fall asleep. He kissed Michael on the cheek, nuzzling into him and letting his eyes drift closed. He could worry about the sheets in the morning.

Michael rolled his eyes when he heard Geoff's steady breathing, he himself still felt sticky and gross; but he didn't feel like waking the man beside him so he grabbed up some of the sheets and cleaned his stomach the best he could before letting his eyes fall closed as well.

When Geoff awoke, his feelings were decidedly mixed. On the one hand, he was well rested and snuggled up into a warm body; Michael's warm body, which smelled of sex and citrus shampoo. On the other, he was more than a little bit sticky and the bedsheets were clinging to his stomach. He groaned… He probably should've cleaned up last night.

Michael's face squinted at the audible groan, tired eyes blinking blearily awake and desperately wishing he could close them again and go back to sleep. His mind was reeling, he'd slept with Geoff, he'd confessed his feelings about Geoff to Geoff, he'd deserted Ryan to come back to Geoff, he told Geoff secrets about his past; he'd left himself vulnerable and open and those were never the best things for Michael.

Geoff peeled open one eyes, making a face a the light streaming in through his window. Ugh. He pressed a kiss into Michael's curls, not ready to disentangle himself, no matter how disgusting he felt. "Morning," he muttered blearily, "How'd you sleep?"

"Fine." Michael answered simply, rubbing his knuckles against his eyes and yawning sleepily. "You?"

"Pretty well," Geoff hummed, "But I'm feel fucking gross. Bath?" He nudged Michael with his hips, relishing the playful contact.

"Yeah." Michael nodded, sliding from out of under the covers and grabbing at Geoff's hand to pull him off the bed as well. He was already excited by the possibility of the hot bath as he moved towards the bathroom.

Geoff stumbled along after him, bleary eyed. He sat on the edge of the tub heavily, turning on the water and plugging the tub when he felt the water get warm. He hoped that this bath wouldn't end as their last one had.

Michael grabbed out two towels and set them down on the counter; before moving to use Geoff's toothbrush and brush his teeth. He highly doubted germs mattered now. He felt sluggish and exhausted, and the bathroom light was annoying bright.

Geoff let the tub fill 3/4 of the way full before turning off the tap and sliding in. At first the water was a wake-up call, so shockingly hot he almost yelped. But as his body got used to the temperature, he began to feel even more sluggish than before, sinking down until only his head remained above the surface, resting on the back of the tub. He let out a contented hum.

Michael rinsed and spit before moving to slide into the tub as well, wincing slightly at the heat but growing accustomed to it rather fast; he was quick to grab the soap; scrubbing it across his body roughly to try to remove some of the stickiness.

Geoff grumbled at the intrusion, but spread his legs apart so that Michael could fit in opposite him. He let his feet skim over Michael's thighs, tickling the skin. When the man looked over at him, he made a face, blowing bubbles into the water. He felt exhausted and childish, but it was the kind of exhausted you got the day after running a marathon (Which he was /never/ doing again. His legs ached for days after).

Michael rolled his eyes at the man's antics, setting the soap aside and scratching at his cuts instead. They'd reached the point where the scabbing was incredibly itchy. He ran his hands into his curls, attempting to soak them with water. Unlike Geoff, he actually did want to get clean and not just soak up the water till he looked like a fucking raisin.

 

Geoff picked at the dried come on his stomach, still sticking persistently to the skin even after he'd submerged himself. It flaked away rather easily, and the tattooed man shifted, returning his attention to Michael. He was trying, rather ineffectually, to wet his hair, and Geoff sighed. He sat up, grabbing the plastic cup from the side of the tub and filling it with water. "C'mere, let me wash your cute fucking hair," Geoff made a face, twitching his fingers for the man to come closer.

Michael sighed, letting his hands fall from his hair and slid back so that he was now much closer to Geoff. "I need a hair cut." Michael mused. He let Geoff pour the water unto his hair, absentmindedly running his hands along the man's thighs gently. He was still a little drowsy, and the bath water wasn't helping; nor were Geoff's fingers in his hair.

Geoff made a discontented noise, letting his fingers scratch at Michael's scalp of their own volition; on autopilot. "Don't cut your hair. It's adorable like this," he gave the man a sleepy smirk, tugging the curls lightly.

Michael chuckled, shaking his hair lightly. "It looks dumb." Michael passed Geoff back the shampoo before leaning more fully against the older man's chest. In all honesty he could probably fall back asleep.

"It's fun to pull on," Geoff countered, rubbing suds into Michael's curls, "If you're going to trim it, at least don't take much off?" he asked, shooting the man a puppy-dog look before realizing Michael had closed his eyes.

"Alright fine." Michael muttered, he didn't really care much about his hair anyway; it was just when his curls got a little too unruly did he start to get annoyed; it was too hot to wear beanies twenty-four seven. He pinched at Geoff's thigh playfully, smirk lacing his face but keeping his eyes closed tiredly.

"Ow," Geoff grumbled, dumping a cup of water over Michael's head it revenge. The soap slid easily from his hair, leaving behind damp curls in its wake. Geoff pressed a kiss into them, wrapping his arms around Michael. "You gonna do me now?"

Michael scrubbed the water from his eyes, giggling at Geoff's way of phrasing it. "Never took you for a bottom, Geoffrey." He mused lightly, but turned around never the less and filled the cup up with water. He let it soak into the man's hair, using a hand to push his messy locks back slightly before setting the cup aside and pouring some soap into his hand. He carded his fingers through the man's hair, fingers massaging his scalp.

"Hey, I've tried things," Geoff countered, sticking out his tongue at Michael and immediately regretting it when he got shampoo on his tongue. He spat out the taste, wrinkling his nose, "Okay, ew." The man's fingers did feel good against his scalp though, and he leaned into them.

 

Michael laughed at him for a few moments, grin breaking out across his face as he continued to rub the suds into Geoff's hair. "Things huh? Does that mean you've actually been a bottom before?" Michael asked curiously, tilting his head to the side slightly.

Geoff shrugged, "I've done a lot of things, at this point. But yeah, I've bottomed for a couple of guys, and this one chick who was into pegging, but that's not quite the same." The tattooed man picked up the bar of soap from the edge of the tub, lathering some onto his hands and onto his body. He still felt sticky.

Michael raised his eyebrows up. He was incredibly inexperienced comparatively, he mostly stuck to one night stands and random hook ups; nothing that left any sort of room for anything more than a quick fuck. "Huh." He mused, refilling the cup of water and pouring it across the man's head to get out the suds.

"What does 'huh' mean?" Geoff made a face, shaking the water out of his hair like a dog. He finished washing his body, taking the cup from Michael and spilling water across his chest to get rid of the suds. Their bath was halfway to becoming a bubble bath at this point, Geoff mused.

"I don't know, it's just interesting I guess." Michael shrugged, absentmindedly twirling his fingers through the water. "How many relationships have you had?"

Geoff shrugged, running a hand through his hair, "Serious relationships? Like maybe 4 or 5, depending on who you count. But I've done a lot of fucking around; I always tell Gav that people generally try and bone me because I'm the leader of one of the most powerful gangs in the city, but he never believes me." Geoff wiggled his eyebrows, drawing Michael in for a quick kiss.

Michael let out a soft laugh before pressing his lips back into the older man's, winding his arms around Geoff's neck and forcing them closer together. "One of? We are the most powerful, Geoff." He mused, "don't be humble."

"Aw, Michael," Geoff said, putting a hand to his heart, "I'm touched." He mock swooned into the man, half forcing him under the water.

Michael laughed, pushing the older man off of him and standing up out of the quickly cooling bath water. He grabbed one of the towels and ran it through his curls before drying off his damp body.

Geoff collapsed into the water, kicking his feet like a child, "Get me one?" He knew he was being a lazy little shit, but he was tired and Michael was right there. Usually this situation went the other way around anyways, with Geoff taking care of the younger man.

Michael rolled his eyes before tossing the towel to him; thankful it didn't land straight in the water. Michael wrapped his own towel around his waist and let a tired yawn run through him.

 

Geoff stood, drying his body and giving his hair a cursory swipe with the towel. He stepped out of the tub, wrapping it around his waist and stretching. Definitely a nice way to start a lazy day- well, hopefully lazy. Running a gang wasn't exactly a predictable job. "Breakfast?"

"Sounds good." Michael nodded, moving back into the bedroom to grab out a pair of boxers. He didn't bother slipping on anything else, even if Gavin did come home he doubted the brit would mind too much. He opened the dresser, leaning over slightly to grab one.

Geoff gave Michael a light slap on the ass as he walked by, snagging his own pair of underwear in the process. He wiggled them up over his hips, walking to the kitchen and opening the party. There wasn't too much in the way of food, besides cereal, but he supposed it would do.

Michael slid his boxers up over his hips before rubbing his face tiredly. He could feel the familiarity of his nerves creeping across his fingertips, the entire Geoff thing was starting to feel too domestic and suffocating. It was too intense and he wished he was just alone in his apartment, surrounded by alcohol and a dingy couch. His mind was flashing back to nights with his ex, things he'd wished he'd forgotten and he was reminded too eerily of Geoff; despite their massive differences. He tried to shrug off the feeling, shaking out his shoulders before heading out of the bedroom.

Geoff put two bowls on the counter, pulling a carton of milk out of the fridge and setting it next to them. He bumped the silverware drawer closed with his hip, tossing two spoons next to the rest of the items. "What do you want?" Geoff asked, not bothering to turn around as he heard Michael's footsteps on the wooden floor of the living room, "We've got Cheerios, Lucky Charms, some weird granola thing, and Rice Krispies."

"I'm not hungry." Michael muttered, running a hand along his arm as he padded towards the couch and sat down. He slid his feet under him, staring aimlessly out the window.

"What?" Geoff turned, giving the man a confused look, "You just said you wanted breakfast…" He eyed Michael up and down, trying to figure out what was wrong.

"Huh? Oh." Michael recalled that he had indeed said that, he glanced back at Geoff, "I changed my mind." Smooth, Michael; yeah he'll never suspect that. Michael turned his attention back to the window, he would've just eaten something anyway but with the way his body was acting, he didn't think he'd be able to hold it down very well.

Geoff chewed his bottom lip for a moment before sighed and grabbing the Cheerios from the pantry. He walked over to the couch, sitting next to Michael wordlessly. He pulled out a handful of cereal, shoving it his mouth and chewing slowly. Cheerios were actually kind of fucking gross, in his opinion, but they were fuel- even if they did taste like cardboard. He offered the box to the other man, shaking it gently to get his attention.

Michael shifted slightly farther away when Geoff sat down, resting his chin in the palm of his hand as he listened to Geoff gnawing on the cereal. Michael raised an eyebrow at Geoff offering him the box, he literally just said he wasn't hungry. He pushed it away gently, shaking his head.

Cat Astrophe: Geoff let out a concerned sigh, setting the cereal on the coffee table. "Okay, what's up?" He faced Michael, resting his elbow on the back of the couch and cradling his head in one palm. One minute they were talking and laughing about stupid shit, and the next, the man had crawled back into his shell.

Michael shot Geoff a smile, as genuine as he could make it. "Nothing, Geoffrey." Michael answered, cringing when it sounded too fake. "I just feel a little sick, is all." Hopefully that sounded more realistic, but he couldn't be too sure. He'd spent a lot of time with Geoff and his ability to read him had grown over the years.

Geoff raised an eyebrow. Michael didn't admit he was sick unless he was a) dying, or b) forced to. The man was stubborn like that. "I'm calling bullshit on that one. What is it? Are we back on the relationship thing, because I thought that was… settled." He made a face; that sounded much too /Ryan/. You didn't "settle" relationships, but here he was claiming that all their troubles should have been fixed by that one conversation. "I mean, are you having second thoughts?" he tried again.

Michael winced at the tone, to Michael it just sounded like Geoff was upset that he was having issues about the entire situation. He was the one that asked, Michael was content to just sit on his own confusion and not say anything. Geoff was asking too many questions and Michael could hardly focus on them; he wound his fingers into his hair and moved to stand up. He was so tired of people demanding the answers he didn't have.

Geoff scrubbed his face with his hands. God, Michael was such a child sometimes. He caught the man's hand, gently twining their fingers together, "Come on, Michael. Just talk to me, alright? Nothing's gonna get done if you just walk away!"

Normally, Michael would've been comforted by the touch of Geoff's hand but now the grasp was just making him panic. He could feel every strangled breath trying to claw it's way from his chest. "I-I can't."

Geoff made an exasperated noise, his grip on the man's wrist growing tighter. He could feel himself beginning to get angry, to force matters, to do something rash, but he was too far gone to care. "Why the hell not? Michael, you are a grown fucking man… That doesn't mean you need to have all your shit straightened out, but it means that you are mature enough to try. Giving up isn't an answer anymore; there's no fucking safety net! So you need to talk about things, to decide things. I don't care if you talk with me, or Ray, or Gav, or /whoever/, but you need to talk to someone. Figure out what you want, and I mean that.”

Michael flinched at the grip, face forming into a snarl when Geoff's words hit home; he tugged at his arm harder and fought the urge to punch him. "I'm not giving up, you're fucking strangling me! You've told me in the last day that you love me that we should date, I've already discussed my feelings with you, what the fuck else do you want from me?" He could barely feel his own breathing at this point, his hands were shaking visibly and his head had started to throb painfully. "Why do you have to be such a fucking asshole all the time? You want me to man up and be an adult? Fine, but why don't you man up and admit that you're not fucking perfect."

"I never said I was perfect!" Geoff threw up his hands, releasing his grip on the man's arm, "You say I'm smothering you- fucking tell me; I am perfectly happy to back the hell up /if that's what you want/. Don't go along with what /I/ want, just because I want it. I'm a big boy, Michael, I'll build a bridge and get the hell over it!" He knew that last was a bit of a lie; he doubted he could stop loving Michael just like that. But he was angry, and tired of the other man's bullshit, so he didn't bother to correct himself.

Michael tried to take a breath; this fight wasn't getting them anywhere and if Geoff wanted Michael to be an adult; that was fine he'd start by not screaming at the top of his lungs. He slid a hand to his forehead, willing the painful throbbing to dull down somewhat. "Just shut up for five fucking minutes, please?"

Geoff let his mouth snap shut, leaning back on the couch with a sour expression. He knew he probably had on the world's angriest bitch-face, but he was listening. Sometimes blow ups were necessary for the long-term good of the relationship, and that's what the tattooed man focused on as he pressed his lips together tightly

Michael sighed at the silence, moving to sit down on the floor and bury his head in between his knees. He counted out his breaths the best he could, trying to die down the panic that was itching through his mind. Really, in all honesty it would've been much easier with Ray by his side coaxing him through it; but he wasn't about to beg Geoff to call him, not with the attitude the man was currently sporting. He didn't understand Geoff in a lot of ways, the yelling had been entirely unnecessary and all it did was leave Michael feeling like shit for feeling like shit. He tugged his fingers into his hair, trying not to scrape too harshly at his scalp while he waited for the panic to fade out.

Geoff's anger quickly faded to concern when Michael curled up in a ball on the floor. /Fuck/. The man was panicking, and he was an asshole. But at the same time, he knew he was right. Michael just went with the flow, rarely considering what made him happy, and generally took the path of least resistance. He was acting more like a thing to be pushed and pulled upon, rather than a person. Geoff clenched his hands in his lap, knowing that touching Michael would probably just make it worse.

 

Michael eventually switched from shaking breaths to sturdy well measured ones, though he'd winded up with some pretty splotchy scratches along the back of his neck, at least he felt calmer now; or his body felt calmer. His mind was still a little jumpy, but he hadn't ended up sobbing in a shower, so he considered it progress. He lifted his head up once he was sure he was okay to once again address the situation with Geoff, hopefully the older man had calmed down as well and he wasn't about to get shouted again.

"Sorry," Geoff murmured, "I'll just… shut up and let you talk." He tended to overwhelm people in arguments, winning due to sheer volume of speech and numerous interruptions, rather than actual valid points.

Michael nodded thankfully, bringing his hands up to rub at his face before looking over at Geoff. "I'm not having doubts, I still meant what I said about how I feel. I'm just-" Michael paused, /I'm just surrounded by entirely too many similarities and I don't know that you're not going to snap on me like he did/ "I'm just not used to it yet,"

Geoff nodded, tucking his feet under him and sitting criss crossed on the couch, waiting for the other man to continue. There was something just beneath the surface of Michael's expression again- fear, maybe. Geoff doubted if he would ever know the reason behind it.

"I'm really trying here Geoff, honest." Michael murmured quietly, it was the truth. Every piece of him was itching to run, to just leave, go pick a fight, crash at home and stop thinking about life. He was staying, and that in and of itself was quite the feat for Michael.

"Hey," Geoff murmured, reaching a hand down to Michael, palm out as if he was trying to soothe a nervous animal, "It's okay; I get it. It's fucking hard, and you have baggage, and we just need to… one step at a time, right?"

Michael took the man's hand, allowing him to be pulled back toward the couch and into the plush cushions. Michael nodded, though he wasn't exactly a big fan of the word baggage; it just made him feel like more of nuisance than anything but either way he responded to the gesture. "Yeah, okay."

"Do you want to set up boundaries or something? I wanna know what you're comfortable with," Geoff idly scratched the back of his neck, looking away. He was kind of pissed at himself for not knowing what set Michael off on these mini panic-trips.

Michael wasn't too fond of the idea of Geoff walking around on eggshells around him. "I don't know, not really. It's not like I have a fucking trigger word, Geoff. It just sometimes gets to be too much, is all."

"Yeah," Geoff said, trying to express the genuine confusion he was feeling rather than the frustration, "But /what/ gets to be too much?" He hadn't grabbed the man, done anything sudden; just continued on with routine and suddenly Michael turned off, as if his batteries had run out and Geoff needed to recharge him.

"It's just like the domestic shit... it's unavoidable- I know it's really unavoidable, but it just makes me nervous." Michael admitted quietly, turning his attention away from Geoff.

"Oh…" Geoff furrowed his brow, not used to skirting around that particular area of a relationship. Usually whoever he dated was overjoyed when he cooked breakfast or cuddled with them on the couch. He'd need have someone be so… put off by the idea of that kind of intimacy. That didn't mean he wouldn't try and make Michael comfortable, however, and Geoff quickly began to concoct ways of watering down the domesticity of their routine. "So… does this mean you want to make your own breakfast?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops! Forgot to upload this yesterday, that's my bad. (NotVerified)
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy, comments and kudos are wonderful as always!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to mention that there is likely going to be mentions of some very serious topics dealing with an OC character Michael knew. He will be involved more, and we hope you guys love to hate him as much as we do. 
> 
> So I'm going to warn for mentions of inappropriate relationships, and mentions of some very forceful events. Also drugging. This stuff will likely only get heavier, so please read with caution.

Michael laughed, shaking his head. "I'm not hungry." He still felt slightly put off by the idea of food. He jerked his head up when the door open and Gavin walked in; cheerful smile on his face as he waved at them. "Good morning!"

"Good morning," Geoff shot back, raising an eyebrow, "Nice sex hair." It was true, the Brit's sandy brown locks were even wilder than usual. The tattooed man briefly wondered if he'd borrowed some of his date's (Meg, was it?) hair gel, or if this look was a by product of last night's remnants and an early morning fuck.

"Thanks." Gavin smirked cheekily, before giving Geoff a look when he realized that they were definitely both in their boxers. He really hoped he was just assuming things, the plan wasn't for them to go get Michael so that Geoff could fuck him. It was so that he actually got some much needed rest and relaxation, without the drama.

"Was she good?" Michael asked playfully, tilting his head curiously. 

"Top." Gavin chuckled, moving to pour some cereal into one of the bowls.

"Hey, you wanna pass me the other one?" Geoff asked, picking up his box of Cheerios and shaking it at the man. Even if Michael wasn't going to eat, he most certainly was a "three meals a day" kind of guy. Even if one of those meals would occasionally be vodka.

Gavin rolled his eyes but brought the milk and bowl over to the man, grabbing the ends of the spoons in his mouth and juggling the box in between his elbow. He set the supplies down on the coffee table and moved to sit in the armchair. 

"Hey Michael, how're you holding up?" Gavin asked curiously, tilting his head at the curly haired man. 

"Fine." Michael muttered, yawning.

"He slept 'till 6 yesterday," Geoff commented, filling his bowl with cereal and pouring milk over top of it, "But his rib's not bothering him too much. Or, at least, he hasn't been complaining about it." Knowing Michael, that didn't mean much.

"That's good, he needs sleep." Gavin muttered, sending a harsh look at Geoff before taking a bite of the cereal. "Have you put anything on those cuts?" 

Michael shook his head. "They're not that deep." He mused, it didn't even matter now not when they were already healed up.

 

Geoff shot an indignant look back at Gavin. They'd both got plenty of sleep, thank you very much. Not to mention the fact that he was generally the one who was overprotective of Michael in the first place. Then again, the Brit probably thought that they'd been boning for a year at this point; that they were just fucking around.

Michael leaned back against the couch, setting his feet in Geoff's lap and leaning his head back to rest on the armchair. He swiped at Gavin's hand when it moved to poke at his freckles.

"So, a new girl huh? How long have you been dating her?" Michael mused, making conversation just to fill the eerie silence.

"This is the one who was being cagey and shit, right?" Geoff said around a mouthful of cereal. With their luck, Gavin had probably got into a relationship with a cop, or worse: a reporter. They were sneaky bastards, and unlike police officers, they rarely stuck to the strict letter of the law.

"Yeah, but she's stopped now." Gavin muttered, then turning back to answer Michael's question. "Like a month or so?" 

Michael glanced back at Geoff, not quite understanding the conversation going on between the two. "Why's she being cagey?" 

"Was." Gavin corrected. "I think she got over it."

"A few days ago, Gav told me she would get all awkward and avoid-y when gangs were brought up," Geoff shrugged. "You didn't tell her who you are, did you?" he asked, shooting the Brit and accusatory glare. He was pretty damn recognizable, but he'd rather have everyone else on his team keep a low profile, for safety reasons.

"I'm not a bloody idiot, Geoff." Gavin muttered back, "She doesn't know who I am." Of course, there had been the occasional question of had he ever stolen anything, why he worked in the grimy mechanics place downtown; which was definitely not his workshop for building explosives. He'd kept a low enough profile. Michael raised an eyebrow at Gavin, but kept quiet otherwise.

"Alright, buddy. No need to get defensive. Did she ever tell you why she was acting so weird?" Okay, he was prying at this point, but he hadn't even met this Meg chick and he was already suspicious- never a good sign.

"I thought it would be suspicious to ask her outright why she was acting weird, but after a little more snooping; I think one of her family members died in a bank robbery or something." Gavin offered, shrugging his shoulders.

 

"Ah," Geoff made a face. Maybe not then. "Glad it's working out for you though, dude." Geoff finished off his cereal, walking into the kitchen to dump the leftover milk down the drain and rinse the bowl. Briefly, he wondered what Jack was up to. He hadn't seen the woman in a few days, which was rarely a good sign. She was constantly bothering him about some gang matter or another.

Gavin grabbed his empty cereal bowl after slurping up the milk and walking into the kitchen. He set it down in the sink, checking to make sure Michael was still lounging on the couch before directing his attention to Geoff. 

"We were supposed to be getting him here so he could relax and rest." Gavin whispered harshly. Normally he wouldn't have cared, maybe it was because he'd been with Ryan; or maybe because of the cuts on his chest, or maybe it was because he'd had hypothermia, either way Gavin was feeling as if the curly haired man had been through too much in the last few weeks and Geoff fooling around with him probably wasn't helping his mental capabilities.

Geoff felt a twinge of guilt at the words; he certainly hadn't been helping Michael relax- at least not in the way Gavin meant. He pushed through the feeling, rolling his eyes, "There was a lot of resting and relaxing, dude. It's not like you left and we immediately decided to have hot, rough sex." He made sure to keep his voice low; no doubt Michael wouldn't appreciate him talking to Gavin about their relationship.

Gavin sighed, running a hand across his face. Sometimes he felt like Geoff was unexplainably blind to the shit he put Michael through. "Have you even discussed anything with him? Or did you just go straight into boning?"

Geoff gave Gavin a flat stare, "Yeah, we talked about it. I /made/ him talk about it. Michael doesn't open up, Gav; you know that. But we worked out… things." He struggled to find the right word, one that didn't reveal too much, but wasn't quite so damn vague.

Gavin met Geoff's gaze, nodding slowly. "Yeah, alright.." He moved to grab out a soda from the fridge before glancing back at the man. "Hey, have you ever tried getting Ray to tell you anything about him?" He made sure to be quiet, sparing a glance over to Michael who was currently messing with the channels on the TV.

Geoff raised an eyebrow, "Dude. That's kind of underhanded, don't you think?" He had to admit though, it was kind of a good idea. Ray was a loyal friend, but you didn't get to be the leader of the most powerful gang in Los Santos without learning a few tricks about dealing with loyal people. Manipulation was key… Geoff tried to shake off the thought. No matter how curious he was, it wasn't right.

"It might help though." Gavin shrugged, "I just want to know what's in his head sometimes, y'know? It's not fair that he confides in Ray; they barely even talk." He took a swig of his soda. "Or, I mean we could try to snoop around and find some of his documents or information or something..." Okay, so that was also a little underhanded but Gavin never denied   
being a snoop. 

Geoff rolled his eyes, "I'm washing my hands of this," he put said hands up, as if to ward off Gavin's immoral methods of obtaining information. "But, uh…" the tattooed man muttered, "If you find anything, let me know?" He'd probably drop by Ray's later, with the pretense of discussing their latest heist. If the conversation happened to drift to Michael, well: that was neither here nor there.

"Sure, Geoffrey." Gavin nodded, already heading back to his room to see how much background information he could obtain on the curly haired man. Michael settled on watching MLP, figuring it was better than nothing as he laid back to get more comfortable on the plush sofa. In all honesty, it was nice to just relax in front of the tv; he'd been seriously lacking on that front lately.

Geoff stretched, turning on the sink and sticking his head under the faucet. He took a few swallows of the less-than-pristine Los Santos tap water before heading back into the living room. He settled his arms on the back of the couch, almost kissing Michael on the top of the head before remembering what the man had said about domesticity. "I'm going to head over to Ray's in a few; talk to him about the heist I've been planning," Geoff said, wrinkling his nose at the cartoon ponies on screen. How could Michael watch this shit? "Need me to tell him anything for you?"

Michael leant his head back to stare at Geoff, reaching a hesitant hand up to the side of the man's neck and sliding his fingers gently across the skin there. He was half tempted to ask if he could go, but he knew if Geoff was talking about a heist he was planning, he definitely didn't want anyone else there interrupting. "No, that's alright."

"Alright," Geoff gave Michael a small smile, grasping the man's hand and giving it a small kiss, "Rest up, okay?" He headed into his bedroom, stripping the come-covered sheets off the bed and tossing them into his laundry basket. He'd put new ones on when he got back. Geoff changed quickly, pulling on cargo shorts and a t-shirt to accommodate for the hot weather.

Michael muttered an okay before focusing his attention back on the tv, lying his head down comfortably on the side of the couch. He yawned sleepily, eyes already starting to close away the vivid colors on screen.

Geoff headed to the door, shoving his feet into sandals and giving Michael's drowsy form a fond smile. He took the elevator down to his garage, grabbing one of the less flashy sports cars and sliding the key in. The drive to Ray's apartment was only about five minutes; the man lived only a few blocks away, but traffic was hell in the crowded inner city, no matter to time of day.

 

Ray was currently sat on his couch in the middle of the fourth floor condo he owned, the building itself was fancy and pretty luxurious: tall and simply created. Inside the apartment itself, it was a little on the messy side; a few dishes remained in the sink but they'd been washed to prevent ants; not to mention he had a few of his clothing scattered around. It was a small condo, complete with a tiny kitchen and one bedroom. It was nothing special and that was exactly how Ray liked it, none of the furniture belonged to him and it'd all been included when he'd bought the place. He knew the drill, occasionally the police would get a lead on him, they'd find his condo and most likely the drugs and Ray would have to be gone from there in only a matter of hours, there was no room for emotional attachment. He'd just finished his lunch, granted a bit of an early one; but he was still recovering from a recent testing of the merchandise.

Geoff rode the elevator up to Ray's apartment, giving the man inside a polite smile, and knocked on the door. Ray's apartment wasn't necessarily nicer than his own, but the less-lived-in feel of the place made it seem like it was. Whereas Geoff's place was covered in magazines, mementos, and pictures, Ray's had an impersonal air that made it seem more like a hotel room than a home.

Ray rubbed at the bridge of his nose as he made his way towards the door, quietly stepping towards it and opening the door a crack; just to see who it was. The moment he recognized Geoff he smiled, opening it further. "Hey Geoff, it's been a while." He closed the door behind him after Geoff was inside. "What's up?"

"Hey," Geoff grinned, and then wrinkled his nose, "Holy shit, your entire apartment smells like weed." He shot the red-eyed man an accusatory glance, "What happened to not 'sampling' the merchandise?"

Ray chuckled lightly, running a hand through his hair and scratching at the back of his head. He made an apologetic face. "Haha, sorry about that. It was a new batch from those assholes up in the mountains, I was making sure it wasn't laced with something else before I sent it out to all the others." It was true too; for the most part. Technically he didn't have to smoke it to know, he could've run a few tests but it was quicker that way.

Geoff rolled his eyes, "One of these days it /will/ be laced, and you'll be in deep shit." He may have been exaggerating; Ray was pretty fucking smart when it came down to it, but the man was ballsy as hell. He collapsed on the couch with a sigh, "Anyways, I came here to get your go ahead on the new heist I've been planning."

Ray shrugged matter of factly at that, truth was he did take too many risks but all criminals did; it's what they were good at and Ray was no different. He slid himself into an armchair, nodding at the older man. "Ah, back to the heisting. What are we going after this time? Please tell me you didn't let Gavin convince you to go back to the Gas Station with /like four safes!/" He slid into a british accent as he quoted the british man, it'd been quite the heist for only a thousand dollars and none of them were too thrilled to be involved in it.

Geoff snorted, "Hell no. We're hitting a bank, as per usual. But I just wanted to get your go ahead to pair you up with Ryan." There was no way in hell he was letting the man anywhere near Michael, and he needed Jack with him. Ray was the next logical choice; he and the psychopath worked fairly well together.

"Yeah, that's fine." Ray nodded, "What bank are we hitting?" The last time he'd worked with Ryan it had definitely been entertaining to say the least, he was a riot in dangerous situations and definitely not someone Ray minded having watch his back.

"Not sure," Geoff shrugged, "Jack'll probably be the one to decide. We have to wait for at least a week, anyways. Give Michael's ribs time to heal." The man still had a nasty bruise, not to mention he'd gotten hypothermia a day ago.

"Ah, right. The kidnapping, thanks for letting me know about that by the way." Ray's voice sounded bitter and sarcastic, but his smile held no real anger in it. "How's he doing?"

"His rib's doing better, but he got fucking hypothermia the other night," Geoff grumbled, curling his lip. Seriously, how could Ryan have just left him in the shower? Didn't he know anything?

"What? How the fuck did he get hypothermia? It's like a million degrees outside." Ray furrowed his brow, honestly Michael's ability to get injured or hurt in any situation was amazing.

Geoff smiled sourly, "Well apparently, Ryan doesn't know that when someone is having a mental breakdown, you don't leave them in the /fucking shower all night/." He spat out the last words. Seriously, the man's penchant for torture was bad enough, but apparently he lacked common sense too.

"Oh, wow.." Ray raised his eyebrows up, though he wasn't shocked that Ryan didn't understand Michael's stubborn attitude, and that he would definitely spend all night in a potentially dangerous situation. Michael was sort of complex in that aspect, his breakdowns usually included a lack of care for his own body. Though he kept his mouth shut about understanding why Ryan would, Geoff wasn't exactly one for reason. "So mental breakdown... did he tell anyone why?" He doubted Michael would've said why he'd had one, but it didn't hurt to ask.

Geoff shook his head, scrubbing his face with one hand. Just explaining the situation to Ray was bringing back the stress of the last few days. He needed a drink. "No... When Gav and I came to get him, he was kind of out of it, and after... Well, he slept practically in my lap for eight hours. I asked him if he wanted to call you, but..."

 

Ray nodded in understanding, noting Geoff's stress from the situation. He couldn't blame him, there was the everyday Michael that was wild, outgoing, and exciting as fuck but then there was mentally unstable Michael that was constantly teetering between clingy and don't touch me. He was still wondering exactly what had happened, but figured he could always just get the details from Michael later. "Well, at least he's getting some rest."

"Yeah..." Geoff sighed, "Yeah, I just- I wish I could get him to fucking talk to me, you know? He's so skittish when it comes to his past; who did such a number on him that I can't make him /breakfast/ without him having a breakdown?" He felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, and they were only half for Ray's benefit. The other half of him just felt hopeless and utterly lost when it came to helping Michael, and it was eating him up inside. He /really/ needed a fucking drink.

Ray nodded again in response to Geoff's rant, he was entirely right with the fact that Michael was skittish. He knew exactly who'd done it and why Geoff wasn't able to make him breakfast, but that meant that they were trying some sort of intimate relationship; and he'd just been told that Michael /really/ liked Ryan so Ray was a little confused to say the least. He kept his mouth shut, not wanting to butt into business that wasn't his and definitely not wanting to tell Geoff any of Michael's business.

"He'll tell you eventually.." He wasn't sure how truthful the sentence was, he had no idea if Michael would ever come clean about his life. He didn't like to see people cry, and Geoff certainly seemed to be getting a little on the emotional side. "Can..I get you anything, like a soda..or I think I have something back in the cabinets..."

"You don't have any alcohol, do you?" Geoff asked, his mouth twisting downwards. Why Ray was perfectly willing to get stoned off his ass, but refused to drink a single drop of beer was beyond him, "Yeah, I'll take a fucking Coke or some shit."

"I think I might actually have some, maybe. Let me check." Ray mused, already walking off to the kitchen and searching through his cabinets. He bent down, reaching behind the sink and pulling out a whiskey bottle. Michael had brought it over for himself at some point, but Ray had convinced him not to drink and instead to talk; he was amazed by his sucessfulness of actually getting the man to communicate. He waved it over at Geoff. "Aha! I'm assuming this'll work." He grabbed out a bottle of water for himself, wandering back over to the couch and setting the drinks on the coffee table. "I don't...have a shot glass or anything, uhm.. I've got a plastic cup?"

Geoff rolled his eyes, snatching the whiskey bottle from the table and taking a swig, "I'm not a pussy, Ray." He could feel the alcohol immediately begin to settle his nerves. It was a pleasant, dull buzz coursing through his bloodstream and easing his every movement. It was as if a switch had been flipping in his head, and everything was right with the world. He took another drink. 

"How do you do it?" He asked curiously, "Get Michael to talk to you, I mean."

Ray laughed easily before falling back into the armchair and grabbing his bottle of water, twisting off the cap and taking a few gulps of it. He twisted the cap back on and made a thoughtful face. "It's uh, not easy. You kind of have to like ease into the conversations. He's sort of confusing, cause he wants to talk about it but he doesn't want pity..at all, so you have to act sort of like you don't care but you're really interested? It takes a lot of patience and a lot of time."

Geoff made a face. He wasn't very good at beating around the bush; even when flirting, his strategy was more "Hey, you're fucking hot" than some string of innuendo-based complements. He'd always thought subtlety was for people who didn't have the balls to say what they meant outright. "Fuck, I'm not good at patient. It's not even that a care about his past or whatever bullshit; I just want to help him."

"Right..." Ray nodded briefly, trying to figure out exactly where the man was getting with this. He could understand that Geoff wanted to help, but he couldn't break the man's loyalty like that. It wasn't cool and it definitely wasn't his place to tell Geoff any of the details of his life.

Geoff chewed his bottom lip and took another swig from the bottle of whiskey. Ray was loyal as hell, and while that was a quality the tattooed man certainly admired, it also meant he would have to pull a few strings to get the man to tell him anything, and he hated that- manipulating his own people. This would be a hell of a lot easier if Ray drank. Well, he could always just make it seem as if he knew more than he did... 

"He... Told me about his ex," Geoff shifted, making a disturbed face. The statement was vague enough not to be an outright lie; Geoff knew the man had been an abusive bastard of some sort.

"Oh, so you have made progress then.. that's sort of shocking though... he doesn't usually talk about Jackson first. He usually starts with simpler shit... huh." Ray mused, swallowing down some more of the water before shooting Geoff a curious glance.

Geoff hummed, sipping his whiskey and tucking the name away in the back of his mind. "Yeah, well... It was kind of relevant." He wondered what kind of simple shit Ray meant. Also, it wasn't like he'd just met Michael; he'd taken care of the man for years before he'd even been interested in him romantically. He'll, he'd raised Michael, in some ways. Everything he knew when it came to cooking, table manners, and even clothing were things he'd learned from Geoff.

"So, you know he like worked for the orphanage and shit? How fucked up is that?" Ray murmured, he was honestly pretty thankful someone else finally knew, it was hard to keep all the secrets for Michael when the man didn't even realize how fucked up everything had been.

Geoff kept a pretty good poker face, but the information was surprising. "It's fucking messed up," he nodded, pulling a disturbed face. The idea of someone in a position of authority over Michael having that sort of... Power over him made his stomach churn. It was another level of abusive and jacked up.

"And like all that shit with the daddy kink that went too far? Like when he'd give Michael ‘medicine’ no wonder he’s afraid of doctors with what that asshole spiked it with?" Ray was shaking his head now, huffing out a exasperated sigh. Michael had told him most of the stuff a while ago, but it wasn't exactly easy to forget.

Geoff choked on his drink; the alcohol went down the wrong pipe and burned in his lungs, but that was nothing in comparison to the absolute shock and horror overwhelming him. "I- He didn't tell me about that," the tattooed man managed to splutter out, staring wide-eyed at Ray. Holy fuck...

Ray froze, wincing slightly before rubbing nervously at the back of his neck. "Well... uh, fuck.. my bad then." He really should've been smart enough to realize that of course Michael wouldn't have told him everything; at least not yet. "It was pretty bad.." He muttered lamely.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Geoff scrubbed his face, as if trying to wipe away the horrified expression plastered there. Any tiny inclinations towards being called "Daddy" were immediately discarded, and the idea now made him want to puke. Yeah, no fucking wonder Michael was messed up. "He spiked- what the hell did he give him?" He wanted as much information as possible before he went out to find "Jackson" and break the bastard's neck. Who knows, maybe he'd even call in Ryan; this was probably one of the only things they'd ever agree on.

"Uh as far as I know, it was mainly just E and roofies. I think he had him addicted to them at some point but I don't know for sure." Ray ran a hand nervously through his hair, he really shouldn't be telling Geoff any more but he'd already fucked up and hopefully Geoff wouldn't throw him under the bus.

Geoff let out an angry growl, clenching his hands into fists so hard he could almost feel the whiskey bottle begin to crack in his grip. "Jackson... What's his last name?" Geoff was going to murder this monster if it was the last thing he did, consequences be damned.

Ray arched his eyebrows in concern, shaking his head sympathetically. "He wouldn't tell me, can't imagine it'd be too hard to find out though.. I just, never went looking." Ray had to admit the idea of the guy winding up dead gave him a sense of relief. "They have an online database with most of the workers' information, if you can hack into it you should have unlimited access to most of the records and shit.. Just, be careful alright?"

"Yeah," Geoff nodded. He may have been angry as fuck, but it was a low, burning rage. He wasn't going to go on a careless killing spree; he was going to stalk this man, learn his patterns, before he pounced and ripped the sadistic bastard to shreds. "Thanks, Ray... Seriously. I didn't- I didn't want to drag you into my mess, but thanks." It was an easy lie, for all that he was grateful.

"Yeah, sure.. no problem." Ray answered simply, hopefully Geoff wouldn't focus on the fact that most of Michael's records and therapy visits were on there as well. He smiled good naturedly before swallowing down the rest of his bottle of water.

Geoff swallowed down a good quarter of the whiskey bottle, setting it down on Ray's coffee table and standing. "I'm gonna head back, I'll tell you later if the heist plans change." He gave the man a tight smile, running a hand through his hair.

"Okay, tell Michael I said hey." Ray stood up to lead him towards the door, it was more habitual than polite. He opened the door for him and gave him a small wave. "I'll see you later, Geoff."

"Bye," the tattooed man gave him a half hearted wave, walking out the door. The drive back to his apartment was quick, partly because Geoff ran a few red lights in his hurry. Ray's words were eating away at him; the new information about Michael's rattled around in his brain like loose screws. He couldn't wait to get home and ask Gavin what he'd found.

Michael had taken a nice dreamless nap, it was relaxing to say the least to be able to sleep curled up alone. He was still drifting in and out of the confines of sleep, back facing the tv as his face pressed into the crook of the sofa; steady breathing accompanied by quiet, tired mumbles. 

Gavin on the other hand had been furiously researching the orphanages that held Michael's name; it was difficult to say the least, most of the information on the pages were just general and he'd only been able to discover it due to a few thousand google searches. He'd only just contemplated hacking into it, but hadn't yet made the jump.

Geoff made sure not to slam the door behind him when he entered the apartment, not wanting to alert anyone to his mood. Seeing Michael curled into his couch struck a cord in the tattooed man, and he pressed a kiss into Michael's curls before going to check in with Gav. He didn't even bother knocking on the Brit's door, simply stepping in and closing it softly behind him.

Gavin looked up, finger inches away from clicking off of the site before he realized it was only Geoff. He took a breath, leaning back farther in his chair. "Hey, Geoff. How was Ray's? Did he tell you anything?"

"Yes," Geoff said shortly; the word was clipped and angry, filled with an odd mix of disgust towards Michael's ex, and concern for the man himself. "What about you?"

Gavin paused for a minute, he'd sort of been expecting Geoff to tell him what he'd found out. He pointed to the screen. The colorful font and print with an easy to navigate page read "Westside Second Home", with an 'information' page, a location, and donation page just to the side of it. "This was the one he was at."

"Mm," Geoff hummed, leaning over Gavin and moving the mouse up to the tab that read 'Faculty' in bright, blocky letters. The entire site looked incredibly fake, with its neon lettering and clip art background. It made Geoff's stomach twist.

Gavin furrowed his brow, was there a reason they cared about who worked there? The names were numerous, starting with the founder Thomas L. Cruz, and moving down to current owner and manager; Jackson E. Reed. Names of educators, nurses, and therapists followed heavily. "Okay, so why are we looking at this...?"

Geoff jabbed the screen with a finger, "Him." /Jackon E. Reed.../ He clicked on the name, bringing up the man's profile information and photograph.

Gavin was completely lost as he watched Geoff read through the information, he seemed like a normal enough guy; dark hair, green eyes, a charismatic expression. If it weren't for the way Geoff was looking, Gavin would've assumed him to be a nice guy. It said he was 47, and his email was just below a bullshit paragraph about why he'd agreed to work for them. "Okay, him. Great, who is he?"

"Michael’s ex boyfriend," Geoff curled his lip in disgust. The man was old enough to /actually/ be Michael's father! When he'd first realized that he was attracted to the auburn haired man, the age difference was what originally put him off to it. Reed was 9 years older than him, and looked it.

"Oh wow... wait, he dated the guy who ran the orphanage?" Gavin asked incredulously, mouth gaping open as he looked between Geoff and the man on screen. He was still a little confused as to why it mattered, even if it was a little weird that he'd dated the owner; surely it wasn't that big of a deal.

"Not willingly," Geoff muttered, opening a new tab and typing the man's name in the search bar. He doubted he'd find much; if Reed was still running an orphanage, it was doubtful anyone had alerted the police to his drug habits. If anything, he'd find an address at most. But any information he could give his lackeys would be beneficial, and the sooner they found Reed, the sooner Geoff could break his fucking skull in.

Gavin raised his eyebrows up but didn't pry for anymore information, it was clear Geoff was in his intense mode and wouldn't tell him even if he asked. It was better just to stay quiet and not bug Geoff while he researched. He'd still had the tab up to Michael's documents that were ready to be hacked in to, but left it alone in favor of tapping his fingers along the desk. 

Meanwhile, Michael had finally managed to wake up fully, tired hands rubbing at his eyes as he glanced around the dimming apartment. He let out a yawn before standing up, ready to make his way to the bathroom.

Geoff cursed quietly; Nothing. The bastard was even too old to have a Facebook account, or at least went by another name. "What else did you find?" he asked, closing the tabs, "It wasn't just this shit, right?"

"Just some of Michael's old records, like therapist appointments and notes and shit." Gavin shrugged his shoulders. "Don't think it'll help much though, at least with his information." Gavin heard the pattering of feet and the sound of the bathroom door opening. "Michael's awake." He mused.

Geoff cast his eyes to the closed door nervously, "Alright... Send this to me, and call Jack. Tell her I don't care what she's doing, I want a hit put out on Jackson E. Reed- 7,000 dollars. 10 if they can get him to me alive." The tattooed man ran a hand through his hair angrily, pulling at the roots. He needed another drink... Maybe five. Getting piss drunk and hate-fucking someone was generally his go-to when he felt this angry. It didn't happen often, but when it did, there was no solace until he'd dealt with it properly.

"Sure thing Geoff..." Gavin muttered a bit hesitantly, already pulling up Geoff's email and moving to send him most of the files. He grabbed out his phone and waited for Geoff to leave before making the call. Michael washed his hands, drying it off on a nearby towel before opening the door and making his way out of the bathroom.

Geoff slipped out of Gavin's room, bumping directly into Michael as he did so. "Fuck!" he cursed, jumping slightly in surprise, "Holy shit, Michael, you scared me. How was your nap?" He gave the younger man a warm smile, trying to ignore the way his gut curled when he looked at Michael. In some ways, he understood why the man hadn't wanted him to know. Even if Geoff didn't pity Michael, he certainly saw him differently now that he knew his ex had shot him up with drugs and made Michael call him "Daddy."

"Sorry?" Michael offered, raising an eyebrow up at the man's jumpiness. "It was good, thanks. How was Ray's?" Michael questioned, scratching at his chest as he took measure of Geoff's attitude; he definitely seemed a little tense.

"Pretty good," Geoff shrugged, "He gave his go ahead on the heist." The tattooed man walked into the living room, scooting around the counter and into the kitchen. He opened the fridge, checking his options for lunch. It was nearly 1, and all he'd eaten today was a bowl of Cheerios and some whiskey. "Hey, you want burgers for lunch?"

"Cool." Michael nodded, following Geoff into the kitchen and stepping on a barstool only to move to the counter and sit down there. "Burgers sound good, yeah." Michael had to admit he was starving, after the minor freak out the morning had worn off it'd only left him with a growling stomach.

"Sure it's not too domestic," Geoff teased, but gave the man a concerned glance. The last thing he wanted to do was prompt another panic attack, especially since Michael hadn't eaten all day. He pulled out the package of meat and washed his hands in the sink.

"I'm too hungry to care." Michael answered simply, letting out a chuckle as he watched Geoff cook.

Geoff quirked his lips in a smile, retrieving his apron from the back of the pantry door and tying it around his waist. He used his fingernails to tear open the Saran Wrap covering the patties, laying them one by one on a platter. "You wanna keep me company while I cook these?"

Michael smiled back at him, moving positions so that he leant up against the counter. "Sure." He observed Geoff in the apron, nearly laughing at the sight. It was sort of adorable.

"What, you got a problem with my apron?" Geoff asked, putting his hands on his hips mockingly. It had a cliche "Kiss the cook" pattern, but Gav had crossed out the "kiss" and written "fuck" in its place. Honestly, Geoff thought it was an improvement.

"I think I'd like it more if there was nothing on underneath." Michael flirted cheekily, sending Geoff a playful wink before opening the fridge to pull out a soda and kicking it closed behind him. The sleep really had done his mental state a good deal, he felt more content in his mind and more relaxed with the world. It was a nice feeling.

"Maybe when Gav's not here," Geoff snorted, "I think he's seen enough of my ass for a lifetime." He picked up the platter, shouldering open the glass door to the balcony and stepping out.

Michael followed him out to the balcony, glancing around down at the city before taking a seat in one of the chairs and crossing his ankle over his knee. "What's he doing anyway? I swear he gets more like Ray every day with the locking himself in a room."

Geoff shrugged, lighting the grill and grabbing a pair of tongs from the kitchen, "I dunno, he wouldn't tell me. Probably just jerking off to weird porn or something." He laid the burgers on the grill one by one, grinning at the satisfying sizzle the meat made.

"Probably." Michael nodded, watching the flames of the grill absentmindedly. The silence was a little on the awkward side, and Michael was pretty sure he was picking up on some sort of underlining emotion from Geoff but he couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was.

Geoff flipped the patties expertly, trying to think of something to say. The slight guilt gnawing at his stomach didn't help, though it could have just been hunger. At least, that's what he tried to convince himself. He was doing the right thing by not telling Michael. How do you say "By the way, I know your ex boyfriend was an abusive fuckhole and I put out a hit on him." That's right; you didn't.

Michael extended his leg to tap his foot against Geoff's thigh, drawing the man's attention to him. "Did something happen at Ray's?" Michael was trying to think of something that could've happened to make Geoff so quiet, but he was only coming up with blanks. He didn't necessarily seem upset or anything, but he definitely looked like he was thinking about other things.

Geoff opened his mouth, about to ask why he would think that, but sighed instead. It was obvious that something was wrong, and he didn't want to lie to Michael. He would, of course, but that didn't mean he was happy about it. "Yeah, sort of," Geoff conceded.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?" Michael concluded after a few moments. At least he had affirmation that something was definitely up and he wasn't just being paranoid. He leaned back against the chair, letting two of the chair's legs come up.

Geoff made a face, "I don't really wanna talk about it." He scooped the now-cooked burgers off the grill and back onto the platter, setting down his tongs and turning to face Michael. "You're gonna fucking fall over," he teased, grabbing the man's thighs and forcing him back to a seated position.

Michael smirked up at Geoff, grinning at the fact that he wasn't so stone cold anymore. He could handle Geoff not wanting to talk about it, even if his curiosity was growing.

"Jesus, stop that," Geoff chuckled, smiling down at Michael. He pulled the man into a slow kiss, as much of a distraction as anything else. At the same time, though, Geoff could actually feel his anger ebbing, and the way Michael's lips felt against his was like aloe on a burn. He was just so... Wonderful, for all his imperfections. He was the kind of person one could curl up with on the couch and play video games with by day, and fuck senseless by night, even if he broke down a few times in between.

Michael kissed back greedily, hand moving up to tangle into his hair. He nipped gently at the man's bottom lip before pulling away. "This is nice and all.. But can we eat now and kiss later?"

Geoff rolled his eyes and pulled away, grabbing the platter of food from the grill, "Fine, but only if you get Gav from his room. The little twink is going to starve to death if he doesn't come out of there some time."

"Can do." Michael was quick to stand up and make his way into the house, heading toward the hallway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slowly but surely we're learning more about Michael, there's much more backstory to come. 
> 
> Comments/Kudos are always welcomed and appreciated! Hearing from you all is the best.
> 
> We'd love to know what you think.


	21. Chapter 21

"Asshole! You hungry?" Michael called as he walked to Gavin's door.

Geoff set the platter of meat on the counter, retrieving lettuce, tomato, and a block of cheddar cheese from the fridge. He cut the cheese into thin slices, laying a piece over each still-warm burger. He sliced the tomato in quick precise movements, each chop serving to calm his nerves a little more. Cooking was almost as good as alcohol, even if it was a hell of a lot more work.

Gavin was quick to shut off the tabs on his computer as Michael barged in, nearly falling off his chair. 

"Hey boi!" Gavin greeted. Michael arched an eyebrow up in suspicion.

"Geoff made burgers." He announced, reaching forward to bat at Gavin's face.

Geoff grabbed buns from the pantry and laid out three plates. He wished he'd thought to make something to go along with the burgers, but he supposed this would do; he was too hungry to care much. Geoff prepared his own burger, slathering ketchup on the underside of a bun and laying lettuce and a slice of tomato overtop, setting his plate on the counter. After a moment's consideration, he took out a beer from the fridge; the whiskey at Ray's had only been enough to tide him over.

Michael slid his way back out of Gavin's bedroom, chuckling when Gavin jumped up onto his back. 

"Get off, asshole." Michael muttered, stumbling forward slightly because of the weight.

"If you two fuckheads break my TV..." Geoff warned, chuckling as Michael stumbled towards the screen. He took a seat on one of the counter's barstools, watching as the two of them struggled for control, Gav clinging relentlessly to Michael's back, while the other man tried to throw him.

Michael ignored the tinge in his ribs when he managed to untangle Gavin from his back and let him fall to the floor. He didn't bother tackling him fully, instead just setting his foot on Gavin's chest in triumph before walking towards the kitchen so he could eat, laughing at Gavin's groans.

"Food stuff's on the counter," Geoff motioned, taking a bite of his food and practically groaning at the taste. Sure, they were hastily made and a tad on the rare side, but Geoff knew how to cook a fucking burger.

Michael practically jogged to the food, taking a bit of mayo and lathering the top side of the bun before setting a piece of cheese down. He poured a large amount of ketchup on it, bumping shoulders with Gavin who was greedily grabbing at the pickles. He pushed his way past Gavin and over to the counter, setting his plate down and taking a bite before he even took a seat at the barstool.

"Bevs, Michael?" Gavin asked curiously, grinning when Michael nodded before leaning into the fridge and grabbing two out. He popped off the tops before setting one in front of Michael.

Geoff snorted, taking a swig of his own drink, "You always eat like you're starving, Jesus Christ. I thought I cured you of that," he reached out to give Michael's cheek a playful pinch. Even after years of regular meals, the man still scarfed down food as if it would disappear if he blinked.

Gavin slid into the seat next to Geoff, taking a bite of his burger before glancing over at Michael and tilting his head. 

"Did you used to skip meals a lot?" Michael paused for a second, taking a swig from the beer. It was rare Gavin asked any sort of questions that pertained to his past life.

"Uh, yeah."

"Dude, he was skinnier than you when I first picked him up," Geoff chuckled, "I guess you don't remember; you were still in England most of the time." He took another drink, letting the alcohol and the casual banter sweep away his anger. Okay, maybe this was better than a hate-fuck, but he could hardly call up Michael and Gav every time he felt like he was about to smash somebody's skull in. Still, it was nice to pretend everything was normal.

"Aw, it's hard to imagine Michael without his little pudge." Gavin commented playfully, reaching forward to pat at Michael's stomach.

"Fuck you." Michael seethed out, but his smile was hypocritical as he took another bite of the burger. He jumped up on the counter after he swallowed it, letting his feet tap against Geoff's knees as he took a swig of the beer again. It was a nice feeling, the alcohol was a good distraction.

Geoff rolled his eyes, "You're a fucking animal." He pushed Michael's legs away, but didn't repeat the gesture when they swung back next to his knee. He took a couple more bites of his burger, nearly finishing it off; he hadn't realized how hungry he was.

Michael chuckled at the comment, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. He wasn't going to deny it, he had his bad habits. Gavin was eating slower than the two of them, taking his time in savoring the burger whereas Michael was already finished. The silence wasn't as much awkward as just peaceful.

"Okay, you get a thousand dollars every time you cum. But, your dick has to turn into a tentacle." And there the silence went with Gavin's stupid hypothetical situation.

"... How do I come if my dick is a tentacle?" Geoff asked, furrowing his brow. He honestly loved Gavin's stupid hypotheticals, even if everyone else mostly seemed annoyed by them. "Like, is there a hole in the tentacle? And would I still have balls, because I can't see it really being possible otherwise."

"Yes, it works just like a dick. Just in like it's special tentacle way." Gavin nodded, "You just have to deal with like explaining it to people and shit." Michael rolled his eyes, swallowing down the rest of his beer.

"Would you still fuck me if my dick was a tentacle?" Geoff asked, turning to Michael and pulling his best serious face. He finished his burger, raising his eyebrow at the man as he chewed.

Michael scoffed before shaking his head. "Fuck no."

Gavin let out a laugh. "Yeah right, you'd be all over him." 

Michael shook his head again. "No, tentacle dicks are definitely not my thing."

"Fuck, well never mind then. I was this close to giving up my dick for a hot rod red octopus appendage," Geoff chuckled, before adding, more seriously, "That is, if I got to choose the color."

"I would've thought you would have gone with like purple." Gavin laughed, moving to set his plate in the sink. 

"I personally would go for like bright pink." Michael smirked.

"Aw, would you fuck me if my dick was bright pink then?" Geoff made a pouty face that quickly transformed into a smirk as he took another swig of beer, "Think about it though- tentacles are flexible as... Well, not as dicks. More flexible than dicks."

Michael flushed at that. "Yeah, but they're still fucking weird looking." Michael shrugged his shoulders before continuing. "I'd want half the money then."

"... Fine," Geoff agreed, "But only because then you'd have incentive to give me more blowjobs," he stuck out his tongue childishly, standing up to rinse his plate. He gave Michael a light peck on the lips as he passed, shooting the man a smile that he hoped didn't come off as loving as it was; he really didn't want to push the whole "domesticity" issue.

Michael smiled back before climbing off the counter and moving to set his plate in the sink as well. Gavin took both of theirs for them. "I got dishes tonight." He offered.

"Like tonight now or tonight for dinner?" Geoff asked, "Because I was going to order Chinese for dinner, and I wouldn't want to waste your valuable dish-cleaning services on takeout boxes." He have Gavin a playful smile, bumping his shoulder against the other man's.

 

Gavin gave a confused glance before looking out the window. "Oh, it's not night." He started to let the water wash over the dishes.

"God, you're dumb." Michael laughed, shaking his head at the british man.

Geoff snickered, giving Gavin a playful smack to the back of the head, "You been locked up in your room so long you forgot what time it was?" he asked, reaching for a dish towel and drying one of the plates Gavin had already cleaned.

"Maybe." Gavin answered back nonchalantly. 

"So what are you doing in there exactly? And don't say you were jerking off cause there is no way you have that much stamina." Michael questioned, leaning back up against the counter and arching an eyebrow up. 

Gavin paused momentarily, shooting a look towards Geoff. "Uh."

Geoff gave him a blank, "don't you dare screw this up" stare, before returning back to his usual, teasing self. "What, you get into watching ponies sing about the magic of friendship like Michael did?" Honestly, with the life the younger man had had, Geoff thought his love of magical, happy equines was justified. Who didn't want to live in a perfect world?

"Hey! It's a good show." Michael defended, huffing when Gavin started laughing.

"No, I was just researching shit for the heist, thought we'd give Jack a bit of a break." Gavin thought it was a pretty good lie. 

"Oh." Michael wasn't positive it was the truth, they never gave Jack a break and he didn't think they'd start now but never the less he shrugged it off.

Geoff shrugged, "If you say so." It wasn't a bad lie, and he had to give Gav props for coming up with it on the fly. He may not have been up to the tattooed man's level of guile and cunning, but he was getting there. /I'll make a conniving bastard of you yet, Gavin Free./

Michael rolled his eyes before walking back to the living room and letting himself flop on the couch. Gavin let out a sigh when he walked away, finishing washing the last dish and handing it over to Geoff to dry.

Geoff toweled off the plate, sticking it back in the cabinet with the others, and walked to the living room, sitting beside Michael on the couch. "So, whatcha wanna watch, buddy?" he slung an arm around the man's shoulders and gave his curls a ruffle. He seriously might throw a temper tantrum if Michael ever cut them.

"I don't care." Michael muttered, but leant closer into the embrace. He slid his hand across Geoff's arm, glancing at the colorful prints. While Gavin let himself sneak away to his room again.

"Mm," Geoff hummed, trying not to smile. He loved this- just sitting next to Michael, touching him. It's how he knew just how damn far gone he was, when even this soothes his system as much as a swig of alcohol did. Geoff was a man of addictions; he was obsessive and passionate in half the things he did, even if it was just sitting on the couch and running his fingers over Michael's skin.

Michael turned his head to place a kiss to Geoff's neck, setting his other hand on Geoff's thigh. He glanced up at him curiously, voice not coming out nearly as confident as he wanted it to. "Should I be worried about what happened at Ray's? He's alive right?"

Geoff let out a snicker, trying not to go stiff at the mention of his visit. He'd almost been able to forget the information that had had his blood boiling for the last hour or so. "Yeah, Ray's fine. What, did you think I had to kill him for the good of the crew or something?"

"No, I didn't think you killed him.. but there are plenty of people who do want your crew dead so y'know. It's not that uncommon of a worry." Michael seethed out defensively, turning back towards the tv that was still playing some random shit he'd been watching earlier. He was already embarrassed for the fact that Ray meant enough to him to warrant worry, but Geoff's snickering didn't exactly help.

"Hey, Michael..." Geoff furrowed his brow, gently cupping the man's cheek with one hand and turning Michael's head to face him. "What's wrong, You know I'd tell you if anything happened to Ray, right?"

"I know, I believe you that he's okay. I just want to know why you're hiding whatever happened from me." Michael murmured, he made sure to look up at Geoff; knowing very well that he was sporting a pretty harsh pair of puppy dog eyes.

Geoff closed his eyes, guilt stirring low in his gut, "Jesus... Fucking puppy dog eyes, really? A bit early to be bringing out the big guns, don't you think?" He knew he was doing the right thing, but with the way Michael was looking at him, it didn't feel that way. He knew he'd probably have to tell the younger man /something/ eventually.

Michael avoided the urge to smirk, instead moving positions so that he was sat in Geoff's lap. He wound his arms around the man's neck, not letting up on the eyes as he rested their foreheads together. "You don't have to tell me, just tell me why you /won't/ tell me."

Geoff rolled his eyes, flushing a bit at the way Michael was sitting /right on top of him/. And yeah, maybe being guilt tripped by your attractive, younger not-boyfriend was kind of hot. "I- It just makes me uncomfortable, okay?" It was a shitty excuse, and he knew it, but he couldn't concentrate hard enough to think up a better one.

Michael furrowed his brows at him, hands moving up to tug into Geoff's hair. "It...makes you uncomfortable? How so?" To be fair, he probably could've let it go by now and maybe it wasn't such a great idea to shift his hips slightly; but his curiosity was driving him crazy. What had happened that could've possibly made Geoff uncomfortable? That didn't seem much like the older man.

Geoff could feel his face heating up, "Look... It's- I'm-" he stuttered, cursing his inability to control himself when it came to the younger man. "Angry. It makes me angry, alright?"

"Okay, okay." Michael nodded, that made more sense and he wasn't about to hassle Geoff into telling him anymore; Michael didn't like to convince people that way. He smiled gently before kissing Geoff's lips, fingers rubbing across the man's scalp. "I won't bother you about it anymore."

"Thanks," Geoff murmured, wrapping his arms around Michael and pulling the man closer. He couldn't believe that he'd missed out on this for so long... Hadn't had the balls to speak up and just tell Michael the truth. The truth was, Geoff loved the younger man more than he could remember loving anyone- or anything, besides alcohol- in the course of his life. He would do anything to protect him.

Michael nuzzled his face into Geoff's neck, enjoying the comfort of the man's arms around him more than he'd like to admit. He could feel himself growing accustomed to the man's touches, and maybe that had something to do with the fact that he hadn't been out of the house in two days but either way he felt loved and that was something he didn't get much of. "So, what's Gavin researching about the heist exactly? Is there something different about this one?"

"Nah, just robbing a bank. I think maybe he wants to move away from explosives and more towards the research side of things," Geoff shrugged, the lie sliding out easily. He pressed a kiss into the side of Michael's neck, chaste but with a hint of teeth. He was willing to do anything for just a few touches, and found it almost... Exciting. Usually he was the person in control, but Michael had Geoff under his thumb, even if he didn't know it.

"Hm." Michael muttered, he was a little confused at the fact that Gavin wanted to do more work; but shrugged it off when Geoff kissed at his neck. He was vaguely aware that he was still only clad in boxers; not that it mattered much. He slid his hips slightly, pretending to adjust so that his knees weren't digging as painfully into the couch; though he really just wanted to see Geoff's reaction.

"You're a prick," Geoff murmured, rocking his hips up slightly. He ran his fingers over the smooth skin of Michael's back, tracing the curve of his spine. He kissed the man's neck more fiercely than before, but made sure not to be forceful. After what he'd been told about Michael's past, the last thing he wanted was to even coerce the younger man into having sex with him.

Michael chuckled lightly at that, grin forming on his face at the feeling of power. He moaned at the feeling of Geoff's jeans grinding up, his boxers weren't really doing much to shield him from the friction of the rough material. He shivered slightly at the touches, hands moving to grab at Geoff's thighs when he felt the rough kisses on his neck.

"You realize Gavin's less than 20 feet away, right?" Geoff asked, not ceasing his hips' movement. Michael looked so damn pretty when he was like this, all happy and flushed and sexy as hell. It was intoxicating.

Michael let out a sharp breath due to Geoff's relentless hips. "I-if you're so worried about it, then stop fucking moving." He tried to bite back another moan, though it only managed to cause him to let out a groan. His grip on Geoff's thighs grew tighter and he could feel his entire body heating up.

Geoff stifled a chuckle, "Fine." He ceased his movements, pulling away from Michael's neck and moving his hands away from the younger man obediently, "If you say so." He chewed his lip, trying not to let his arousal show through the persona.

Michael had to admit Geoff's willpower was amazing and he couldn't help feeling surprised by the sudden stop. "Asshole." Michael grumbled, before letting a smirk fall on his face as he grabbed Geoff's hands and lifted them to the top of the couch, pinning them there successfully. He honestly gave zero fucks if Gavin found them like this, plus if he was really researching as much as he said he was then he doubted he'd be distracted by the sounds coming from the living room. He leaned forward to nip playfully at Geoff's neck, tongue darting out across his skin.

Geoff let out a small, surprised noise when Michael pinned his hands, wiggling slightly- not to get out of the other man's grip, but rather just so test how strong it was. He let out an approving hum when Michael didn't budge, tilting his head to give him more room to work over Geoff's neck.

Michael kissed across his neck, listening carefully to Geoff's breath to try and attempt to find out which place was most sensitive. He smirked against the skin just under Geoff's ear, sucking the skin softly before testing the water by biting gently. He moved to pin Geoff's wrists with one hand, letting his other trail down the man's chest with light touches.

Geoff let his eyes roll back and let out a low moan, his breath quickening as Michael bit and sucked at his skin. "Fucking hell..." he breathed, trying to keep himself from grinding his hips upwards. He wasn't going to do anything unless Michael have the okay, but, /God/, did he want to.

 

Michael spent a few more moments torturing Geoff's neck, grin forming at the way the man was acting. He sat back slightly; releasing his grip on Geoff's wrists to tug at the hem of his shirt.

Geoff removed the garment obediently, worrying his bottom lip to keep from letting out the stream   
of praise and profanity waiting on his tongue. No, he'd be good, he'd be quiet... He'd let Michael take back the control he'd never really had before. Geoff was made of control; he could take it, and hell- he'd probably enjoy it, if the semi he was sporting was any indication.

Michael smirked at the removal of Geoff's shirt, eyes studying across the man's chest. "God, you're sexy as fuck." Michael murmured before grabbing at Geoff's hands and forcing them back into the same position. He didn't hold them down this time, he wanted to see how long Geoff could actually handle not touching him. Michael had to admit, he was quite the power bottom when he wanted to be. He kissed at the man's lips roughly for a moment before pulling away to kiss across Geoff's chest. The position was slightly uncomfortable, the way his back was arching sent a slight sting to his rib but he ignored it in favor of letting his mouth worship across Geoff's torso.

Geoff let out a sound that he was embarrassed to say sounded more like a soft mewl than a moan. He clutched the back of the couch, fingernails digging into the fabric so hard he was briefly afraid it might tear. If /he/ was sexy as fuck, then he didn't know what Michael was. God of all things sexy began to cover it, but not by much. He bit into his bottom lip, letting out a surprised noise when he tasted blood. Holy fuck... Barely even being touched and he was already going crazy as dicks.

He glanced up at the surprised noise that came from the man, tilting his head at the sight of the blood. "Geoff, you made yourself bleed." Michael tsk'd, sliding his thumb across the man's lip with a sympathetic expression. Michael steadied his hands on Geoff's stomach, fingers tapping lightly against the skin as his mouth worked across the man's body. He flicked his tongue out across the man's nipple, before sucking harshly just below. He knew it was sort of mean to still refrain from touching him much at all, but he wanted to see exactly how far Geoff's self control could go.

Geoff bit back his automatic response of "Yeah, and whose fault is that" in favor of digging his fingers more forcefully into the back of the couch. To be fair, Michael had never said that he couldn't touch him, but it had been implied and Geoff didn't want to disappoint the other man. He cursed himself internally for being such an easy switch; he'd subbed for a few people in the past, but it had been awhile since he'd "stretched his muscles," so to speak. He knew he couldn't last much longer without threading a hand through Michael's hair at the very least.

Michael slid his hands from Geoff's stomach to his thighs, gently massaging them as his mouth trailed lower; tongue dipping across the man's hip bones. "You alright there, Geoffy?" Michael questioned teasingly, furrowing his brow when he heard a door open. He huffed, sliding off of Geoff's lap and trying to act somewhat normal as Gavin maneuvered into the kitchen to grab another beer.

 

"You're evil," Geoff whispered in his ear, trying to adjust himself through his cargo shorts without Gavin noticing. He wrapped his arms around Michael loosely, acting as if he was paying attention to whatever was onscreen. He let his fingers trail loosely over the younger man's arms, reveling in the brief moment of permitted contact before realizing he wasn't wearing a shirt. He winced; maybe Gavin wouldn't notice.

Gavin grabbed out the bottle and popped the tab, glancing over to the two men and arching an eyebrow at their state. Geoff definitely had been wearing a shirt at dinner. He shrugged it off, taking a swig and walking silently back to his room. Michael was quick to let out a sigh, at least he didn't stay to chit chat.

Geoff bapped him on the shoulder, "Nice move, asshole." He couldn't resist grinning, though, and pressed a small kiss into the crook of Michael's neck. He knew the man was probably going to take back over in a few seconds, but he was going to get in the few touches he could before then.

"Hey, he's your roommate." Michael grumbled back, sticking his tongue out childishly. He moved back to sit on Geoff's lap, grinding down teasingly as he did so. "Do you want to go to your room, or?"

Geoff bit his lip, hissing when more blood spilled from the wound he'd already made there. "Your choice," he murmured, moving his hands back to where they'd been before Gavin had interrupted them.

Michael smirked, darting his lips out to kiss Geoff's. The coppery taste was only mildly disturbing but he got over it quickly, pulling away and standing up. He grabbed at Geoff's hands, pulling him in the direction of his room. Normally, he would've been fine doing whatever on the couch; but he wasn't exactly itching for Gavin to walk in on them again.

Geoff suppressed a smile; it was hard to think of Michael as domineering criminal OR an abused orphan with the nearly childish way the man was tugging at his wrists. It was more adorable than sexy, but adorable happened to work for the tattooed man. He let Michael drag him to his bedroom, waiting for the younger man to order him further.

Michael closed the door with his foot, leaning against it and tugging Geoff closer by the waistbands of his shorts. He kissed at the man's lips sweetly, moving to slide them along the man's jaw bone; as his hands unbuttoned the man's shorts. It was a little odd that he was so quiet, and Michael had to admit it felt a little weird actually controlling the man but he felt it was definitely not a bad weird.

 

Geoff groaned, grinding his hips up to meet Michael's hand. He grinned at the man, lacing his fingers behind his back and resisting the urge to tug at Michael's curls. "Am I allowed to talk?" he murmured, careful to keep his voice low.

Michael smirked at the receptiveness, sliding his finger lightly across the top of the man's boxers before tugging his zipper down and yanking the pants down over past his hips. The fact that he was asking permission sent a wave of power and arousal over him. "Yeah, you can talk now." He breathed out, grabbing Geoff by the hips and walking him backwards towards the bed; pushing him slightly when the back of the man's legs hit it and letting himself crawl over the top of him; careful to make sure the man's hands were staying still above his head.

"Mm, should I call you 'Sir'?" Geoff asked, wiggling his eyebrows but otherwise being utterly complacent. He knew how this game worked, even if Michael was still figuring out the rules. A couple questions here and there could make all the difference between a good fuck, and a bad one. His breath hitched when Michael crawled over top of him, and he had to admit, the view from below was just as good as the one from above.

Michael felt his face flush at the question, pulling back for a few seconds to ponder the idea. After a few seconds he shook his head. "Nah." Michael shoved his knee in between Geoff's legs, not necessarily gently but not enough to hurt. He kept his arms on either side of the man's head, holding himself up; simply to not let Geoff feel their bodies close together at all. It was torturous, he knew that but he couldn't help using the power Geoff had given him. He slid his mouth to the man's neck, barely kissing along his skin.

Geoff's chuckle turned into a moan when Michael shoved a knee between his legs. "Fuck..." He breathed, "You're a goddamn monster, you know that? A fucking sexy as hell goddamn monster, but still..." He wiggled his hips, trying to obtain some sort of friction against Michael's knee.

Michael chuckled at the insult, glancing down at Geoff rutting against his knee. The sight sent shivers across his spine as he nipped at Geoff's neck before pulling back and moving to sit up; sliding his palm across the man's boxers and trailing his fingers across the outline of his cock.

Geoff clenched his hands into fists above his head, moaning softly, "Michael... Please." There was a large part of him that just wanted flip their positions and grind up against the other man until he came in his boxers, but the other parts were more than willing to let Michael tease and torture him until he screamed.

Michael knew he'd probably have to face getting payback later, but he didn't cave in to Geoff's pleads. Instead, continuing the light touches and gentle palming. He dipped his head forward to kiss just above the waistband of the man's boxers, smirking up at him evilly. "You're gonna have to try harder than that Geoffrey."

 

Geoff made a face; okay, maybe Michael wasn't /that/ new to this game. That, or he was a fucking natural because the tattooed man felt about ready to explode. "Hm, fine. You and your perfect fucking mouth..." He let his breath hitch momentarily, rolling his hips into every touch the other man offered, "Fucking hell... Come on, Michael, please..."

Michael flinched briefly at the words, a slight remembrance to what used to be. Though he set it aside quickly, he was with Geoff, and not only with Geoff but entirely in control. He let his lips trail closer to where he was betting Geoff wanted them, hooking his fingers in the waistband of the man's boxers and tugging them down before pressing gentle kisses across the man's cock. "Well, since you asked nicely." He murmured before stroking him once and letting his mouth surround the head of Geoff's dick.

Geoff moaned softly, resisting the urge to grab and tug at Michael's hair, instead clenching them tightly above his head. He wasn't good at this whole "restraint" game, and he wished he still had the pair of handcuffs his last girlfriend had used on him from time to time. "Holy shit... Fucking- Jesus Christ, Michael," he whimpered.

Michael peeked up at him, he couldn't believe Geoff had as much control as he did; he was sure if the roles were reversed he never would've handled not being allowed to touch, especially when no one had even given him the outright command. He shivered visibly at the whimpering coming from the older man, sliding his tongue across the man's dick before hollowing out his cheeks and sucking harshly.

"Oh my fucking God," Geoff breathed, his hands instinctively moving to grasp at Michael's hair. Halfway through the motion, he stopped himself, grabbing at the bedsheets. He thought he heard a ripping sound, but was too far gone to care. Michael's mouth was hot and wet and fucking /perfect/, and that's about all he could wrap his head around right now.

Michael couldn't help shifting slightly, his own boxers were starting to become incredibly too tight; though he ignored it in favor of watching the man in front of him fall apart. He swallowed around him a few times, pulling off to take a breath before bobbing his head down again.

"Michael- stop," Geoff moaned, "I'm gonna fucking come... Shit." He thrust shallowly into the man's mouth, one hand moving from the bedsheets to tug at his hair. He really didn't want this to stop before it had even begun; he was enjoying it far too much.

Michael nearly flinched at the feeling of Geoff's hand suddenly in his hair, pulling back to raise an eyebrow at the man and give him the best intimidating look he could muster up. "I didn't realize you were making the rules here." He used the palm of his hand to wipe away the stray spit across his mouth.

Geoff couldn't help but grin a bit at that, but quickly trades the expression for something a bit more... Submissive. He took his hand away from Michael hair, obediently moving his arms back to where the younger man had positioned them above his head. "Sorry... Got carried away."

"Hmm." Michael murmured, bringing his lips back to nip at Geoff's neck and letting his hips grind down against Geoff's. Being in control took a lot of fucking work. He briefly thought about making Geoff come anyway, just to be an asshole; but shrugged off the idea in favor of resorting back to smaller touches. He'd have Geoff begging to come in no time either way.

Geoff panted slightly, rolling his hips up to meet Michael's despite the heat beginning to curl in his gut. He kissed the younger man's curls as he worked over his neck; Geoff was going to have some nasty hickeys by the end of this, but he figured it was only fair given what he'd done to Michael their first time together.

Michael let out a soft moan at the feeling of their hips grinding together, sliding his mouth along Geoff's collarbone. He a hand up into the man's hair; tugging roughly at his locks as he circled his hips expertly.

Geoff let out an impatient noise. Slow touches and frotting were nice and all, but they weren't really getting him where he wanted to go. He stopped moving his hips, seeing if being as still as possible might annoy Michael enough to kick things up a notch.

Michael slowed his hips, pulling away to stare down at the man. He took a second before sliding his mouth down to the man's ear. "What do you want Geoff?" He murmured as huskily as he could manage, fingers trailing along the man's sides gently.

Geoff almost giggled; he wasn't used to Michael trying to be take charge and intimidating, but he had to admit, it was sexy as hell. "I want to fuck you," he murmured, stretching his arms further above his head and tilting his chin so that the side of his neck covered in bruises was completely visible. Sure, it was a bit of a blunt statement, but Geoff really wasn't one for subtlety.

"Yeah?" Michael prompted, not pulling away. "You want to touch me? To fuck me into the mattress? To feel me around you?" He let his tongue trail across the man's bruised neck; wincing slightly; he probably shouldn't have been as rough.

"Sounds fucking amazing," Geoff grinned. Maybe some people were ashamed of their sexualities, but he enjoyed every description Michael laid out for him. "Or you could fuck me, if you really wanted to." Geoff resisted pulling a face; bottoming wasn’t really his thing in general, and it sounded like Michael had zero experience on the other end of things. It would still probably be nice, but he couldn't imagine it would be mind blowing.

"I don't." Michael told him bluntly, shaking his head. He knew if he ever did top it certainly wouldn't be during such a submissive session; and he'd most likely be a bumbling idiot if he did. He pulled Geoff up in to a sitting position, grabbing at his hands and bringing them to his chest; a silent permission for him to actually touch him again.  
Geoff bit back a smile, running his hands over Michael's torso, sliding one of them around to stroke the back of Michael's neck. "You're really fucking hot when you take control," he murmured, leaning in hesitantly to kiss the younger man, "Just thought you should know."

Michael groaned at the contact, sliding his hand across Geoff's face gently. He pressed his lips back against his in response, a little harsher than normal as a shiver ran through him in anticipation. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, now get the shit from the drawer; yeah?"

 

Geoff bit back a smirk, reaching over to grab a bottle of lube and a foil-wrapped condom from the drawer of his bedside table. He handed them to Michael, running his hands up and down the man's sides, practically itching with anticipation.

Michael smirked before setting the objects to the side and tugging his boxers past his waist, kicking off the annoying material. He tore open the condom wrapper with his teeth before sliding it over Geoff's dick. Michael slicked his hand up with lube before leaning back against the bed, propping his foot up on Geoff's chest. He didn't let Geoff help, instead only letting him watch as he stretched a finger into his own hole and letting out a lewd moan.

"Jesus," Geoff breathed, his face growing hot, and probably very red as well, at the sight of Michael fucking himself with his fingers. He resisted the urge to touch himself, instead grabbing roughly at the sheets and leaning back to get a better view. He let out a low groan, almost past the point of caring whether or not Gavin could hear them.

Michael let out a breathy groan as he slid another finger in, back arching as he stretched himself. He let his other hand trail to his cock, pumping himself a few times as he made himself ready for Geoff. "God, I'm so horny for you." He moaned, it was all part of the show really but it didn't make the comment any less true.

"Oh yeah?" Geoff chuckled, eyes trailing over the younger man. He brought up a hand to trace the skin of the leg propped against his chest. Michael's dialogue could stand improving, but nevertheless, he was happy for the sentiment. He hadn't quite been sure if this relationship was one-sided; Geoff telling the man what he wanted, and Michael playing along. In giving up control, he no longer felt, well, controlling. Plus, the added benefits of a show weren't too bad either.  
"Prove it." He smirked lazily at Michael, daring the man to put him back in his place.

Michael fought the urge to break back into submission at the comment. Instead, removing his hands from himself and winding a hand into Geoff's hair roughly. "No." He seethed out simply, yanking Geoff closer to him and biting sharply at the older man's lips.

Geoff gasped softly, letting himself be pulled along. He kissed Michael back as best he could, hands trailing along the man's skin in small, hesitant movements, ready to pull away the second Michael wanted him to. He moaned when his hair was pulled, not enjoying the pain so much as the way Michael was looking at him. "What if I'm good?" He asked softly, no longer demanding, but almost pleading. He circled his hips, trying to make the other man aware of the fact that, yeah, he kind of had a massive hard-on here.

Michael tilted his head slightly before taking pity on the man before him, he stroked a hand along Geoff's cock while his other went to make sure he was properly stretched before he moved positions. He was practically straddling Geoff at this point, grinding down once against him, and then using his hand to guide Geoff's dick in. He sunk down slowly, eyes locking with Geoff's as he moaned and brought his hands to the man's hair.

"Holy fuck..." Geoff breathed, sinking back onto his elbows and clutching at the bedspread, "Michael... Jesus fucking- Michael," he trailed of, letting out a low, breathy moan. Gavin could probably hear him, but a this point, Geoff didn't give a fuck. "Christ, you're fucking perfect... So fucking good."

Michael let out a husky groan, making sure to steady his hips as he grinded down on Geoff. He could feel the arousal in his stomach hands moving to clench at Geoff's stomach. "Fuck.." He lifted his hips up, before pushing back down.

Geoff thrust up to meet him, burying his cock fully in Michael's ass. Once again, he was hit with the urge to flip their positions and fuck the other man senseless, but Michael was in control here. Geoff wasn't going to take that away from him, especially now that he knew... No, he wasn't going to think about that. Not here, not now, with Michael riding him.

"Shit, Geoff. Ah, fuck." Michael practically whimpered, setting a steady rhythm. He buried his head into the crook of Geoff's neck, kissing along they bruises he'd given earlier. He was biting back his moans as he continued thrusting down.

Geoff moved his hands from the sheets to Michael's back, digging his nails in and scraping red lines into the flesh. He met Michael's every downward push, letting a slew of profanities fall from his lips, "Fucking hell... Michael, holy fuck, you're so amazing... So good... Please."

Michael moaned and nipped at the man's earlobe. As in control of the situation he felt, he could tell he wasn't going to last long with the arousal pooling in his stomach. He brought a hand down to grip at his cock, languidly stroking a few times. "Ah, cum for me Geoff..."

That was all in took. Geoff threw his head back as he came, white hot pleasure coursing through his veins as he thrust abortively up into Michael. He bit his lip until it began to bleed again, trying to muffle the lewd moans he was making. Shit, he may not have been a screamer, but he was well on his way to becoming one.

Michael followed him over the edge quickly after, moaning Geoff's name as his back arched as he came across his hand and their stomachs. He trembled slightly from the force of the orgasm, collapsing across Geoff's chest and panting harshly.

Geoff wrapped his arms around Michael, pulling the other man close. "That was..." he breathed, trying to find the right words in his post-orgasmic haze. "Holy fuck, Michael."

"Yeah." Michael agreed quietly, kissing at Geoff's neck as a shudder tore through him.

Geoff chuckled, rolling them over and pulling out of Michael. He fell back on the bed next to the younger man, curling around him and giving him a kiss on the shoulder. "There was no way in hell Gavin didn't hear us," the tattooed man laughed, "Jesus, I swear you're quieter when I'm the one in control."

"He'll deal with it." Michael murmured, rubbing his sweaty curls from his forehead and pressing back closer to Geoff. "Yeah well, you didn't tell me you were such a sexy sub."

"I'm a sexy everything," Geoff retorted, rubbing his bruised neck with one hand. He had a feeling that he'd have those for weeks to come, and he planned on wearing as many low cut shirts as possible. He pressed a few, gentle kisses into Michael's skin, not bothering to leave his own marks. Ryan was out of the picture; he no longer needed to "stake his claim," so to speak.

Michael rolled his eyes at the egotistical comment, reaching a hand back to playfully slap at Geoff's face. "Call out your own name in bed next time then." He turned around, pressing his lips to the older man's. "Sorry about your neck.."

"It's fine," Geoff said, shrugging, "An for the record, you're also a sexy everything." He kissed the top of Michael's head, running a hand through the man's sweaty curls, "It's why we work so well together."

Michael chuckled at that, trailing a hand along the man's chest lightly. "So, do you feel better? Less angry, I mean?"

Geoff fought to keep the smile on his face. He had, at least until Michael had brought it up again. "Yeah. Much better." He put his forehead against Michael's, stroking the man's cheek with one hand. How could Reed have hurt someone so damn perfect? He didn't understand it.

"Good." Michael grinned up at him, falling quickly into the affectionate touches. He brought his lips to Geoff's gently, running his fingertips across the man's sides.

"Mm," Geoff hummed, "We should probably get up... Get clean." The spunk of his stomach was starting to dry, and it was a bit uncomfortable. He gave Michael a quick kiss on the lips, beginning to wiggle out of the other man's grasp so the he could take a shower.

Michael nodded, letting Geoff untangle himself from the bed. He, himself was trying to actually get up the strength to clean off as well but his body felt exhausted and it was making the effort difficult. He managed to sit up, rubbing the palms of his hands into his eyes.

Geoff yawned, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed and sitting up. "You want me to get you a washcloth or something?" he asked, grinning at the way Michael was sleepily rubbing his eyes. He was fucking adorable.

 

"Would you mind? I'm exhausted." Michael muttered, letting a yawn creep from his mouth.

"You're always so exhausted after we bang," Geoff chuckled, leaning over to give Michael a kiss on the forehead before standing. "It's kind of adorable." Actually, it was really fucking adorable, but he figured Michael wouldn't take too kindly to the implication that he was anything less than 100% tough and manly.

"Yeah, well my stamina isn't what it used to be." Michael muttered back, letting himself slump back against the bed.

"Says the 26 year old twink to the 38 year old man," Geoff teased, taking off the condom and tying it. He threw into the trash can by his bedside table and walked into the bathroom, grabbing a washcloth from the cupboard. He wet it under the faucet, scrubbing jizz off his own stomach before rinsing the cloth once more and returning to the bedroom.

Michael’s eyes closed when Geoff walked away, opening them when he walked back in. He held out his hand for Geoff to toss the washcloth his way.

Geoff shook his head, sliding back onto the bed next to Michael, "I got it." He swiped the cloth over the man's stomach, gently cleaning away the dried semen sticking to his skin. It was almost calming, a way to take care of Michael after he'd been so fucking perfect for Geoff. He didn't think the younger man realized just how much this- all of this- meant to him.

Michael shivered slightly at the dampness of the cloth, his body still felt somewhat sensitive. It was a little unnerving, the gentle cleaning but he didn't dare ask Geoff to stop.

Geoff tossed the cloth to the side when he was done, flopping back down on the bed,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, you'll have Ryan back in a few chapters. ;) 
> 
> As always, your feedback and support is incredible, thanks!


	22. Chapter 22

"Are you... Y'know, okay?" Geoff gave Michael a worried glance, "I mean... Is this okay?" He winced at his hesitancy. He felt like he was tiptoeing around the other man, as if he might break if Geoff made any sudden moves.

Michael brought his attention to Geoff sharply. /This/ wasn't what he wanted, he was very aware he had his issues and it was often that he'd run away in a seconds notice, he didn't blame Geoff for being hesitant but he wasn't so weak that he couldn't handle a couple of reminders. He let out a sigh. "Yes, it's okay."

"Alright," Geoff let his fingers trail over Michael's skin, careful to avoid his cracked rib. He no longer felt euphoric and gentle and loving; the anger was creeping back up on him, moving around the edges of his consciousness as if it was trying to find a crack to slip back in through. Mostly, though, he just felt sad. He didn't pity Michael, exactly, but he wished that he'd never met Reed. Never grown up practically on the streets, moving in and out of foster homes and orphanages. Never felt like he had to sell his body for a place to live. Never been shot up with drugs and abused and hurt until Geoff found him and took him on... The tattooed man couldn't change that, couldn't even wipe away the memories. Every time he touched Michael gently was a reminder; how could he fix the man if simply being around him broke Michael further?

Michael gnawed at his bottom lip, lacing a hand unto the back of Geoff's neck and rubbing the skin there softly. "Thank you." He murmured quietly, pressing himself closer to the man. He didn't know exactly what he was thanking him for, but he felt it was important to say.

"For what?" Geoff asked, wrapping his arms around Michael and stroking his back. He tried to keep his voice light and cheerful, but there was weight behind the words.

"Everything." Michael muttered softly, it was the truth too he had a lot to be thankful for when it came to Geoff. If it weren't for him, Michael didn't want to think of where he'd be.

"You're welcome," Geoff kissed the top of the man's head, not bothering to move away. He breathed in deeply, reveling in the scent of sweat and sex and /Michael/. It was as addictive as anything Griffon sold on street corners to make rent. "Thanks to you too."

"You're dumb." Michael chuckled, pulling back to shake his head at the man in exasperation; his curls bouncing slightly as he leaned forward to kiss as Geoff's lips. He looked up when a knock sounded on the door. 

"I'm ordering take out now that you've tortured me in listening to you two. You're buying, Geoff!" Gavin called cheerily, with only a touch of irritation as his footsteps walked away.

Geoff chuckled, pulling away from Michael and sitting up. "Told you he could hear us," he teased, shooting Michael a grin. The tattooed man hopped up off the bed and grabbed a pair of underwear from his dresser, pulling out one for Michael as well and tossing the garment to him.

"You should soundproof your room, or kick him out." Michael smirked back, catching the boxers and tugging them on. He sat up, stretching his arms above his head and yawning before getting to his feet and searching for a pair of sweats.

"Usually I go over to the other person's place to bang," Geoff shrugged, slipping on a loose t-shirt that did very little to hide the bruises on his neck, "Plus, I can't kick Gav out. Who'd play Peggle with me then?"

Michael slid a pair of sweats over his hips, patting Geoff's stomach as he walked towards the door. "Fair enough."

Geoff looped his arms around Michael, gently pulling the man back into an embrace, "Hey- you're fucking amazing, you know that?" He gave Michael's neck a quick kiss, smiling despite the weight in his stomach. The sooner Reed was dead, the happier he'd be.

Michael slid a palm to Geoff's cheek, laying his head back on the man's shoulder. "If you say so." He murmured back, turning around to press their lips together.

Geoff deepened the kiss, cradling Michael's face in his palms and pressing their lips together with an odd sort of gentle fierceness. It was the kind of kiss that was possessive in a way that desired not only to own, but to protect. Geoff wanted Michael to be his so that he could cherish the man and keep him safe- from everything and everyone. He pulled away, stroking one thumb over Michael's cheek, "I do say so."

Michael kissed back gently, grinning up at him before opening the door and sliding out of the room. Gavin waved as he entered, looking through take out menu pamphlets.

"We're getting Chinese," Geoff stated, walking into the living room and flopping down on the couch, "I don't care if you think they gave you food poisoning; I ate the beef and broccoli too and I was fine. Plus, we've had pizza like twice this week already."

Gavin frowned over at him. "Aw, but pizza." He glanced over at Michael making a motion for him to back him up. Michael only shrugged. 

"Chinese sounds fine." Michael scratched at the back of his neck before flopping down next to Geoff.

Geoff stuck his tongue out at Gavin. That was the advantage of having Michael as his not-boyfriend; the man was more likely to agree with him. "So, sesame chicken?"

Gavin rolled his eyes, bringing the menu and his phone towards Geoff. "Fine, you order then." He playfully wound an arm around Michael's neck as he dropped the stuff in Geoff's lap, he effectively locked Michael in a choke hold; the curly haired man already moving so that Gavin could yank him off the back of the couch.

"You guys are fucking children," Geoff sighed, grabbing the phone and dialing. He placed an order for wanton soup, sesame chicken, and beef with broccoli, the last mostly to annoy Gavin.

Michael fell to the floor with a smash, ignoring the sharp stab from his ribs, he grabbed back at Gavin. Michael got the upper hand quickly, wrapping his legs around Gavin and tightening his hold on the struggling brit. Their laughter flooded through as they continued wrestling on the hardwood flooring.

"Gav, if you break his rib, I'm gonna kick your ass," Geoff warned, watching the two men wrestle with a contented smirk. Yep, they were idiots, but they were his boys and he loved them. Of course, his love for Gavin was different than his love for Michael in a lot of ways, but it was no less strong.

"Act more like a father why don't you Geoff." Gavin mocked, pulling away from Michael when the man let his hands stop pinning Michael. Gavin slid away, moving to offer his hand forward Michael who took it and stood up. It wasn't as if he'd never heard Geoff referred to that way, hell even he himself had called him it. But that was before they'd announced feelings and now it just sunk into his stomach.

"Daddy Geoff, that's me," Geoff cracked, before realizing what he'd said. The smile slid off his face and he felt sick to his stomach. He quickly plastered a happy expression across his features, but he knew it probably looked as fake as it felt. Fuck, there was the anger again, eating away at him.

Michael coughed lightly, biting at his lower lip as he moved back to the couched. He was already feeling his palms starting to sweat and he attempted to will the memories away. Gavin was oblivious to both their reactions, casually falling back into the armchair.

Geoff cast the younger man a worried glance, but didn't say anything. Instead, he got up from the couch, moving to the kitchen where Michael wouldn't have to look at him. He grabbed a bottle of vodka from the counter a poured himself a shot, letting the alcoholic liquid flow through his veins and ease the guilt settling in the pit of his stomach.

"So, you did a number on Geoff's neck." Gavin smirked, quirking a playful eyebrow up at Michael. 

"Shut up." Michael hissed back, face flushing visibly.

Gavin let out a chuckle, glancing over at Geoff. "Way to offer to pour us some."

 

"My vodka, my rules," Geoff shrugged, "As soon as you buy the alcohol in this house instead of bumming it off me, I will pour you a drink." He filled his shot glass once more, toasting the men on the couch before tipping back his head and swallowing it down.

Gavin rolled his eyes at that, muttering something under his breath that sounded a lot like 'asshole'. Michael furrowed his eyebrows back at Geoff, but not because of the alcohol it was more confusion as to why Geoff was drinking it. Granted, it wasn't uncommon for him to drink but it had seemed rather sudden for such a strong one.

Geoff discarded the shot placing it in the sink, in favor of a faster method of introducing the vodka to his bloodstream. He tipped back the bottle, taking a swig directly from it. He'd gotten used to the taste years ago, and the bitterness was like an old friend. Granted, it was a friend that gave him headaches and tortured him when he didn't come to visit, but it was a friend nonetheless.

"You alright, Geoff?" Gavin questioned hesitantly, sending a concerned glance the man's way but not pressing the issue. Michael glanced away from Geoff to watch the tv aimlessly.

"Fine," Geoff muttered absently, no real conviction behind the word. "Just... Had a rough day, is all."

Gavin nodded in an understanding gesture, though his eyebrows were scrunching together in disbelief. Michael slid his arms behind his head, setting his ankle on his knee and trying to distract himself with the TV.

Geoff worried his lower lip, furrowing his brows in concern as he looked at Michael. He'd fucked up with the "Daddy" comment, and he hoped it wouldn't cause the younger man to have a breakdown for the second time that day. The tattooed man nursed his bottle of vodka gingerly, trying not to down it all in one go. He could already feel his head beginning to get fuzzy.

Michael sighed before getting up from the couch, running a hand across the back of his neck as he made his way to the kitchen. He quirked an eyebrow at Geoff before opening the fridge and grabbing a soda. He leant up against the counter and stared at Geoff pointedly. He was constantly reminding himself that Geoff was not his ex, even if the words stung. His ex would've never comforted him after sex, and certainly wouldn't have cleaned up for him or at least not like Geoff had. "What's wrong?" Michael questioned.

Geoff opened his mouth to lie, to say everything was fine, but closed off instead. Michael deserved at least some semblance of the truth. "The thing at Ray's:.. It's just sort of eating at me," he murmured, careful to be quiet enough that Gavin couldn't hear them.

Michael sighed at that. What exactly happened that was so bad he couldn't tell Michael? He slid a hand to rest on top of Geoff's. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

 

Geoff gave the other man a forlorn smile, leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead, "No, I'm dealing with it. I'll fix it." The last was more to reassure himself than Michael. He'd make this right, or at least as right as it could be. Reed was going to get what was coming to him: namely torture and a slow, painful death. Geoff would make sure of that.

Michael sighed again, he didn't want to bug Geoff about it, but he couldn't understand why the man didn't trust him with this? "Did you tell Gav?"

"No." It was only a half lie, but the guilt was gnawing more insistently at Geoff's stomach, so he tacked on. "Not really." He took another drink of vodka, willing the feeling to go away; he was doing the right thing.

"Is it cause you don't trust me?" Michael prompted, if Geoff wasn't going to tell him what happened, he'd just have to figure out why he wasn't telling him. He pouted his lip out, attempting to use the look to crack Geoff down a little. He wasn't used to the older man keeping secrets and he had to admit he hated the feeling.

"Christ, no," Geoff shook his head emphatically, wrapping his arms around the younger man. He didn't let go of the vodka bottle, however, holding onto it like a security blanket pressed against Michael's back. "Of course I trust you; don't be an idiot."

"Then why can't I know?" Michael murmured back, but leaned against the embrace and burying his face in the crook of Geoff's neck.

Geoff didn't answer; he didn't know how. He simply buried his face in Michael's hair, rubbing the younger man's back with his free hand. He couldn't tell Michael, that was just a fact. Geoff had gone behind his back, not to mention the fact that this would only serve as a reminder of what he'd been through. Lies and half truths were his best options right now.

Michael let out a annoyed huff, bringing his arms up and around the man's shoulders. Geoff was starting to frustrate him, he couldn't even give Michael a good reason not to tell him. Michael turned towards the living room.

"Gav, did Geoff tell you what happened at Ray's?" 

Gavin glanced up sharply, raising his eyebrows at the two. "Something happened at Ray's?" Gavin lied easily.

"Wow, Michael. Low blow," Geoff made a face, stepping away from the younger man and taking another drink of vodka. He leaned back against the counter, trying to look as relaxed as possible, when really he was getting back into the mood of wanting to beat someone's face in.

 

"Wouldn't have been the first time you lied to me." Michael shot back, shrugging his shoulders matter of factly. He glanced toward the sound of knocking, chuckling when Gavin jumped over the couch and snatched Geoff's wallet from the counter as he jogged to the door to get the food.

Geoff gnawed at his lower lip, relishing the pain and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. It was better than getting angry, something to distract him from the feeling that was roiling low in his stomach. "Seriously? What, are you still mad about the fucking ecstasy thing? Because that was 6 months ago, and I wasn't about to let you relapse. You've been sober for 3 fucking years, Michael. I wasn't going to let you give that up for a short lived high."

"This isn't about that," Michael muttered, running a hand through his curls as he glared at Geoff. "Fine, y'know what? Don't tell me, whatever, but quit fucking pouting about it." Michael hissed out before walking over to the table Gavin had set the boxes of takeout at. If Geoff didn't want to tell him, he was just going to have to deal with that; let the curiosity die.

Geoff let out an angry growl, smacking down the vodka bottle so hard he felt the glass begin to shatter beneath his palm. "No- you know what, Michael?" he hissed, storming over to wear the younger man was sitting, "You don't want to know. You really don't want to fucking know, because whatever issues you've got going on right now, this will make them worse." He slammed his arms into the table, effectively bracketing Michael in with his arms and getting in his face, "It's going to make you angry- at me, at Gav, at Ray, at fucking everybody. It's fucked me up to the point where I can't fucking look at you without wanting to hit someone, so I can't imagine what it'd do to you." He was yelling now, barely aware of everything around him. He'd thought the term "he saw red" had been a metaphor until now, but crimson color was eating away at the edges of his vision. He was drunk, or well on his way to becoming that way, and the rare moments when Geoff couldn't hold his liquor were a sight to see.

Michael could feel himself flinch at the sudden anger pouring from the man. He felt confused at the words, not fully understanding what exactly would make him so angry. He slid his hands to Geoff's chest, just to prevent the man from getting any closer to his face. "Geoff.." Gavin warned carefully, not daring to actually make an effort to move him.

"What, Gavin?" Geoff tore his gaze away from Michael to give the Brit a burning glare, "You think he can't take it? He's handled a lot worse than me." He was intoxicated beyond the point of caring whether or not his "secret" would come out. All he wanted was to find Reed and beat the bastard to a bloody pulp.

"Geoff, don't be an idiot." Gavin tried to reason, attempting to get through the drunken haze around Geoff's mind. He'd regret it later, and Gavin was well aware of that. Michael furrowed his brow at them, he wasn't scared of Geoff by a long shot, but that didn't mean his mind wasn't flashing back to the rules and guidelines he'd learned so well. He glanced down nervously, letting his hands fall away from Geoff's chest.

Geoff let out a low growl, but backed off, "I need a fucking drink." He returned to the kitchen, grabbing the cracked bottle and tipping it back. He took a long swig, ignoring the liquid dribbling through the fissures in the glass and over his fingers. It didn't calm him, but rather just mussed his rage into a directionless thing, ready to lash out at anyone.

Michael watched him go before turning his attention to one of the boxes and grabbing a pair of chopsticks to start digging into the food. Ultimately it was just a distraction, just to get his mind off of things going on around him. Gavin let out a sigh, rubbing a hand across his face and shooting them both a worried glance.

Geoff took a breath, trying to calm down, or at least turn his anger into something more constructive. It didn't really work, but he still walked back over to the table and say down, grabbing a carton of beef and broccoli and digging in with the chopsticks. Just breath, don't speak...

Gavin sat down hesitantly, still ready to act if something happened. He grabbed at one of the boxes as well, taking a few bites of the overly spiced food. Michael rubbed at the back of his neck, trying not to be annoyed at the silence. 

"Michael, does your rib still hurt at all?" Gavin tried to make conversation. Michael only shrugged in response.

Geoff chewed his food slowly, not looking up at the other two men. The beef tasted like soggy cardboard on his tongue, but he couldn't tell if that was just the aftertaste of alcohol. He wanted that vodka bottle back, no matter how drunk he already was. Vodka had always been a better friend to him than anyone else had; it was bitter and perfect and always made him feel better, no matter the situation.

Michael didn't feel much like eating after only a few bites, standing up from the table quickly and moving to the kitchen to open up the fridge. He reached in to pull out a beer, using the counter to pop off the top before taking a swig. Gavin watched him out of the corner of his eye, hoping he wouldn't have to witness the man breakdown; though he did seem well on his way there, actually, so did Geoff now that he thought about it.

Get me one too, Michael?" Geoff asked softly, not glancing up at the man. It would just make things worse. He took another bite of the food, making a face. Yeah, it definitely tasted funny, but he wasn't going to complain. He didn't have enough energy left to spare on anything other than the anger making itself at home in his mind.

Michael nodded before grabbing another one and hitting the top off with the leverage of the counter. He brought it towards him silently, handing over the bottle.

 

Geoff gave him a nod of thanks, tipping back the bottle and chugging down a quarter of the beer in one go. It was weaker than he would have preferred, but it was alcoholic and that was enough. He briefly wondered if he had a problem, but shrugged the idea off; plenty of people dealt with their issues through drinking.

Michael gnawed on his lip before walking off towards Geoff's room, he just wanted to take a few minutes to calm down. Gavin watched him go, debating what he was supposed to do in this situation.

Geoff finished off the carton of rice, scooping the last of it onto his food, hoping it would absorb some of the funny flavor. He kept his eyes down until he heard the door to his room close, looking after Michael with a guilty expression and a sigh. He'd fucked up, and he knew it.

Michael made sure to keep his beer from spilling as he collapsed on the bed, running a hand across his face as he stared up at the ceiling. Gavin sighed, looking at Geoff curiously. He wasn't mad at the man, but he was definitely concerned for the both of them.

"You call Jack?" Geoff asked quietly, fiddling with his chopsticks. The sooner they found Reed and dealt with him, the better.

"Yeah, I did. She's made it known. Shouldn't take too long, not with everybody wanting to work for you." Gavin nodded, taking another bite of his food. "Has Michael figured anything out?" He kept his voice quiet, just in case Michael was trying to listen in.

"No... Don't think so. Mostly, he's upset with me for not telling him what happened at Ray's..." Geoff rubbed his forehead. He felt a bit woozy, but his words weren't slurring yet. He didn't know if that was a good or bad thing... It meant he wasn't drunk enough to blackout and forget this entire mess ever happened.

"Of course he is, he's Michael. Why'd you even tell him that something happened?" Gavin ran a hand through his hair. Why did everything always become so dramatic with these two?

"I was- am- fucking angry; he could tell. What was I supposed to do, lie and say everything's fine? Relationships are built on trust, and all that shit." Geoff took a swig of his beer, "I don't like lying to him..." He would, of course; it was for Michael's own good, but that didn't mean he was happy about it, and it showed.

Gavin nodded, he could understand that. "You can't tell him, Geoff.. He'll get livid at all of us. It's gonna hurt him worse than it'll help." He knew that Geoff knew that, of course but it was more to keep his own guilt from rising up.

"Yeah... Yeah, buddy, I know," Geoff sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just- I look at him, and I get so fucking angry." He hated it, a bit- the attachment. He'd do literally anything to protect Michael, and when he couldn't, he just wanted to curl up in a ball and lash out at anything that got close to him.

"I get that, but taking it out on Michael doesn't help, at all." Gavin muttered, though he knew Geoff knew that. He still didn't know what the man had done to Michael, but he knew from Geoff's reactions it had to be pretty horrible. 

Meanwhile Michael had moved positions, curling his arms around himself and closing his eyes. He considered the fact that he hadn't cried yet to be a success, a pathetic success but still.

"I am going to kill that motherfucker," Geoff whispered in a voice like steel, "If it's the last fucking thing I do, I'll make sure he gets what's coming to him." He almost understood what Ryan got out of it... The idea of slicing Reed to bits made him shiver with anticipation.

Gavin blinked over at Geoff, the man could look terrifying when he wanted to be. "Okay, I agree with that but theres no way anyones finding him over night, so..."

Geoff rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing, "Yeah... Yeah, you're right. I'll go apologize to Michael after I finish my beer." He tipped back the bottle, draining it in one go; he could use a little liquid courage right now.

Gavin smiled up at him, he considered that a pretty good pep talk. He went back to eating out of the box of take out. Michael was still curled around himself, but his breathing was steady and he was carefully forcing the memories away, chasing them down with the rest of the beer.

Geoff stood, walking down the hallway to his room and knocking quietly on the door. "Michael, can I come in?" He asked quietly, shifting from one food to another awkwardly. It was his room; it felt odd to be asking someone's permission to enter.

Michael furrowed his brows at the knocking, it wasn't even his room. He felt his heart tug at Geoff's voice, sitting up and crossing his feet under him. "Yeah." He answered back simply.

Geoff opened the door, sliding through and closing it behind him. He stood there for a moment, gathering himself and looking up at Michael. "I'm an asshole." He didn't know what else to say, how to fix it. The younger man didn't look like he'd been crying, but there he had an exhausted, almost meek expression on his face. Geoff decided that he definitely preferred Michael brash and angry to this.

Michael let out short laugh, shrugging his shoulders. "You are," he agreed, "It's okay. I'm not mad." He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the ones that fell into his face.

 

Geoff chuckled softly. "Since when am I the angry one in this relationship?" He gave the man a held smile, moving to sit on the bed next to him. He reached out tentatively, stroking Michael's cheek with a hand.

"Since you're the one that's had too much to drink, and I'm not in the mood to fight." Michael muttered back, trying his hardest not to flinch at the touch. He knew the attempt was useless, he was wound too tight and the nerves were harsh. He tried to smile to make up for it, though it was forced.

Geoff's face fell and he took his hand away, clutching at the sheets instead. "I've probably been intoxicated for half of the time you've known me, Michael... I'm just- I'm angry and afraid and sometimes I feel like if I touch you, you're going to break." He chewed his lip, not looking at the other man.

Michael cringed at the words, he hated them; they brought all of his insecurities out and right in front of his face. He knew he couldn't break anymore than he already had, he was broken and used. "I'm not." He seethed out, fists clenching as his nails dug into his palms.

"I know, Michael... I know," Geoff soothed, reaching out a hand, palm up, in invitation. He wanted to hold the younger man, but not if that meant scaring him. Once again, he was struck by how helpless he felt.

Michael took Geoff's hand, letting himself be moved closer and moving his hands to Geoff's face. He pressed his lips harshly against the older man's lips once before pulling away. "I'm not." He repeated again, pressing his lips back against Geoff's, shaking his head firmly. "I'm not." He wanted to believe it almost as much as he wanted Geoff to.

"Hey, sssh. It's gonna be okay," Geoff murmured, kissing Michael back gently. "You're not gonna break, I heard you. You're not broken." It wasn't true, and they both knew it, but reassurance went a long way sometimes. He pulled the younger man close, pressing soft kisses into his hair and onto his lips. He whispered "I love yous" into Michael's hair, hoping he couldn't hear them.

Michael wasn't sure when he started crying, though he fully blamed it on Geoff's reassurances. He gripped at Geoff's back tightly, fingers clenching into the man's shirt. He could feel the sobs wracking his chest, letting out breathy gasps against the man's neck. He was torn between feeling embarrassed and comforted. Every memory stung painfully, and he'd never fully dealt with anything that happened. It was harder to ignore his issues when he was involved in a weird sort of half relationships.

Geoff guided them back onto the bed, not letting go of Michael. He twined their legs together, resting his head on a pillow and letting the younger man sob into his chest. "If you wanna talk about it, I'm here, okay?" He kissed Michael's forehead, squeezing his shoulders tightly. He was willing to do whatever Michael wanted- talk, fuck, cuddle, whatever, and he tried to communicate that to the man with every light touch, every brush of skin.

Michael nodded against his neck, trying to quit sobbing as much as he could manage. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." His mind felt clouded and he wasn't sure why he was even apologizing. His hands clung to Geoff's stomach, moving every few seconds as if to make sure he was still there.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Geoff reassured him, stroking Michael's back, his neck, running a hand through his curls; it was a cycle, a steady pattern of touches to calm the man. "It wasn't your fault, alright? It wasn't your fault..."

"Everything's my fault, I'm sorry." Michael murmured quietly, shaking his head furiously. He felt disoriented and drunk, though he was well aware he'd only had one. "Please don't lock me out, I'm sorry." His breathing was growing harsher now and he could barely remember where he was or who he was.

"Michael. Hey, come on. Snap out of it, buddy." Geoff cupped the man's face in his hands, forcing Michael to look at him, "I'm not going to lock you out, you hear me? You're welcome here any time. It's alright..." /I'm not your ex; I'm not going to hurt you. I'm going to protect you./ He tried to broadcast the words through his thoughts, unable to say them out loud without revealing anything.

Michael felt himself relax when Geoff pulled him from the memories momentarily. He sniffled lightly, moving his hands up to rub the dampness away from his face. He could still feel shakes falling through him, but he distracted himself with Geoff's touches. He felt vulnerable and horribly exposed, but Geoff was only showing him comfort. Their wasn't any laughter, or any threats. It was only Geoff.

"It's me... It's okay, it's me. You're safe," Geoff whispered, softly kissing each of the man's eyelids. He smoothed Michael's rumpled shirt, the one that was a bit too small for him: a hand-me-down from Gavin. It made his heart hurt slightly; the Brit was a fair weather friend who didn't always know what to say or do when things turned sour. Still, he was Michael's best friend, next to Ray, and when they wrestled or argued together, Geoff couldn't help but smile at the sight.

Michael nodded briefly before laying his head back into the crook of Geoff's neck. He let out a small laugh, shaking his head. "I'm really not as weak as I make myself seem." He tried to joke, cracking a small smile against Geoff's skin.

"You, Michael Jones," Geoff said, tilting the man's chin up to look at him, "Are one of the fucking strongest people I know. Don't you dare think otherwise, or I swear to God-" He didn't know what he'd do. Break down himself, probably. If he couldn't even protect Michael from his own thoughts, what good was he?

 

Michael smiled at that, bringing his lips forward to press against Geoff's sweetly. He still felt shaky, but Geoff was calming him down faster than he would've thought. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Geoff smiled, "And I fucking love you. I know you don't- you're not comfortable with me saying it or whatever, but I do." He kissed Michael softly, leaving their lips pressed together for a few moments, savoring the contact. He let his fingers slip up under the man's shirt, worshipping his skin with light touches, "I love you."

Michael shivered slightly, whether from the words or the touches he wasn't sure. It was a nice feeling, despite his commitment issues. It was nice to feel loved and   
greedily grabbed at Geoff’s skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there wasn't an update on Wednesday, my internet bill forgot to get paid. To make it up to you guys, there'll be an extra chapter posted this Friday!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter, some of the upcoming chapters are my favorites. 
> 
> As always, we love hearing from you all!


	23. Chapter 23

Geoff chuckled softly, "Do you want to...?" He left the end of the sentence hanging, letting his touches imply the rest. He trailed a finger up and down Michael's spine, nipping playfully at his neck and jaw. He could never get enough of touching the other man.

"Yeah, yeah." Michael breathed out, tilting his neck up to give Geoff more room. He could smell the alcohol on him, and he himself felt drunk just by proximity. His hands gripped at Geoff's stomach tightly, rolling over onto his back and encouraging Geoff over on top of him.

Geoff followed easily, sitting up on top of Michael, careful not to rest his weight on the man. He slid off his own shirt, balling it up and tossing it in the corner. He tugged at the corners of Michael's, encouraging the man to hold up his arms so Geoff could pull it off him.

Michael sat up slightly, lifting his arms up obediently. He leaned forward again, trying to catch Geoff's lips with his own.

Geoff let out an easy laugh, kissing him slowly and languidly. He didn't bother to nip at Michael's lips, only opening his mouth to the other man and letting him snake his tongue into Geoff's mouth. It was a languid, wet, passionate kiss and by the time Geoff pulled away he was already half hard in his boxer shorts. Michael had that effect on him; the fuck-you-slowly, tell-you-you're-beautiful effect. It didn't help that he was dead sexy and shirtless.

Michael panted slightly as he pulled away, lying back down against the bed. He let out a quiet whine, swiveling his hips slowly.

"Mm," Geoff moaned softly, letting his eyes drift shut. He leaned down to meet Michael, pressing their lips together again and grinding his hips down gently. He wanted to savor every second of this, when it wasn't about getting off quick and messy and hot, but slow contact and kisses until they couldn't contain themselves.

He moaned when Geoff pressed their hips together. Michael respond back, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. He wound his hands around Geoff's back, fingers trailing along the muscles. "Fuck.."

Geoff pulled away momentarily, his breath hot and heavy on the other man's skin. "I love you... I love you so fucking much, Michael," he murmured the words like a prayer, his every movement gentle and loving. He trailed his fingers along the planes of Michael's face reverently, as if he was trying to memorize every freckle and dimple, ingrain them into his consciousness. He kept moving his hips, not taking his eyes off Michael for a second.

Michael didn't know why the words weren't terrifying him, in fact they were almost adding to the experience. He leant his head back, hips grinding up to meet Geoff's as a few shivers coursed through him. Michael jumped at the sounding of a knock on the door.

"I'm heading to Meg's now, have fun!" Gavin called quickly before walking away and towards the door of the apartment.

Geoff giggled childishly, "Poor Gav. Either we're that horrible to listen to, or he's so sexually frustrated that he needs to go fuck his girlfriend for relief." The walls of the apartment were pretty thin, for the amount of rent they paid. The tattooed man resumed his ministrations, tracing his fingers down Michael's chest, careful to avoid the fading bruise over his ribs, and stroked the outline of the man's hip bones.

Michael laughed back, though it fell off into a contented sigh when Geoff picked up where he left off. His stomach tensed at the touches, and it confused him how he could get so aroused by just Geoff's fingers alone.

Geoff brought their lips back together, pushing down Michael's sweatpants and playing with the elastic of the younger man's boxers as he ran his tongue over Michael's lower lip. He wasn't quite sure what he was going to do when he got the cotton underwear off the man, but he'd make it up as he went along.

Michael groaned into the kiss, pressing his lips back heatedly towards Geoff's, opening his mouth and letting Geoff have free reign to explore. He whined at the touches, hips lifting slightly up against the older man's hands. He was being good, letting Geoff go as slowly as he wanted even though his dick was aching to be touched.

Geoff tore his lips away from Michael's, gently kissing down the side of his jaw and neck. He progressed down Michael's chest, kissing a few spots and making sure to flick his tongue out to play with the man's nipple. When he reached Michael's hips, he stopped, fiddling with the elastic of his boxers and looking up at the man, "Is this okay? I don't... I don't know what all you're comfortable with." He felt his face heat up slightly, imagining what he'd do if Michael gave him free reign. He wasn't too creative, but he could think of a few things.

Michael let out breathy moans as Geoff traveled further down, hands leaving his body to grab at the sheets. He arched his back slightly, wiggling up against him. "Yes, fuck. Do anything you want, ah." He bit back a 'please', bucking his hips up slightly to further prove his point.

Geoff chuckled, sliding down Michael's boxers and tossing them aside. He propped himself up on his elbows, letting his gaze drink in the sight in front of him. Michael was red and flushed, his cock leaking precome as it sprang free of its confines, resting on the man's stomach. Geoff couldn't resist taking hold of it and stroking slowly, if only to see the other man's reaction.

Michael's hips bucked up against Geoff's hand of their own accord, toes curling slightly as his fists clenched into the sheets. He panted lightly, gnawing on his lip. He removed his grip on the sheets, instead reaching forward to grab at Geoff's shoulders.

 

Geoff grinned up at him, "God fucking damn, you look good." Michael's curls were stuck to his forehead, and a sheen of sweat covered his chest. Geoff mouthed at one of the man's hip bones, sucking a hickey next to one of the nearly healed cuts Ryan had left. He moved downwards, licking a stripe up the underside if Michael's cock, teasing at the head with his tongue.

Michael gasped out when Geoff sucked on his skin, winding his hands into the man's hair and massaging his fingers into his scalp. "Jesus, fuck.. Geoff." Michael moaned out when Geoff's mouth found his dick, he resisted his urge to buck up; trying to still himself from wiggling too much. "God, your mouth feels so fucking good, shit."

"Mm, I take personal pride in that," Geoff hummed, taking his mouth off Michael's cock for a moment. He took the man into his mouth again, sucking harshly and tracing the vein on the underside of Michael's dick with his tongue. Simultaneously, he gripped the younger man's thighs, lifting them up to hook over his shoulders, giving him some semblance of control over how fast Geoff was moving.

"Of course you do." Michael rolled his eyes despite the feeling of Geoff's mouth sinking back on him. Moans fell through his mouth as Geoff sucked, letting his heels dig into his back harshly. He moved his hands from Geoff's hair, he didn't want to yank the man's hair out. He stretched his arms up to tug into his own curls instead, hips lifting up repeatedly against Geoff's mouth. "Fuck..." He whined out, eyes closing tightly from the pleasure.

Geoff pulled off of Michael with an obscene pop and a wicked grin, sucking a hickey into the man's thigh rather than continuing his ministrations. He tried not to to let himself rut into the bedsheets, but he was achingly hard and his hips began to buck against the air of their own accord. He let out a groan, muffled by Michael's thigh, and nipped at the skin there.

"You fucker." Michael seethed out when Geoff pulled off, grunting when he sucked at the skin of his thigh. He tugged at his curls in frustration, groans flowing through him as he continued trying to wriggle his hips, spurred on when Geoff's hips rutted against nothing. Everything about the man was hot and he didn't want to admit the thoughts running through his head.

"You gonna teach me a lesson?" Geoff asked, wiggling his eyebrows. He trailed on finger up the length of Michael's cock. Honestly, the younger man could tie him to the bed for all he cared, but he doubted Michael was into that.

Michael moaned at that, thoughts of Geoff tied down, writhing just for him. It seemed like too much effort right now, they'd have to discuss rules and safewords and that just seemed like too much work right now. He tugged his hands back into Geoff's hair, yanking him closed to his dick. "Maybe later." He murmured, "bet you'd look sexy as fuck tied down, bet I could get you off with just my mouth."

 

Geoff groaned an affirmative, leaning down to take Michael in his mouth again. He bobbed his head up and down a few time before slowly sinking down until he felt the man's cock bump against the back of his throat. He swallowed, looking up at Michael with hooded eyes and as much of a smirk as he could manage around the dick in his mouth.

Michael moaned loudly at the imagery, Geoff's mouth stretched around him, wet lips shining as his cock hit the back of the man's throat. He nearly lost it, whines pouring from his throat as he tried desperately to hold himself back. Geoff was almost too good at this. "Okay, fuck. I'm close, s-stop."

Geoff pulled off slowly, careful not to engage his gag reflex, and shot Michael a satisfied smirk. He crawled over top of the man, pressing a kiss to his stomach and not bothering to unhook Michael's legs from around his shoulder. He stopped when he figured that the man shouldn't bend anymore, which was when his head was level with Michael's collar bone. He gave the area a quick kiss, waiting to be told what to do next.

Michael took a few breaths, hips still rubbing up against Geoff as he shuffled up. He looked down at him, fingers massaging their way along his scalp. "God, Geoff... C-can you take off your pants? I wanna see you." He moaned out, sliding his hands along the man's chest.

"When you ask like that, how can I say no?" Geoff smiled warmly up at the other man, briefly stroking his cheek before moving to wriggle out of his boxers.

Michael practically growled at the sight of Geoff's erection, licking at his lips subconsciously. He slid a hand down to run a finger along the underside of his cock, a teasing smirk forming on his face.

Geoff moaned, letting his eyes slip closed for a moment. When he opened them, it was to glare at Michael for being such a tease. He unhooked the man's legs from over his shoulders, sitting up at leaning back, giving Michael his best pouty face, but there was a smile playing around the corners of his mouth, and he couldn't quite manage it.

Michael leaned forward to kiss at Geoff's lips, biting lightly on his bottom lip as he wound a hand to palm at Geoff's cock. "What do you want baby?" He moaned out huskily.

"Anything... Literally anything," Geoff breathed, reaching out to clutch at the sheets for dear life. His hand fumbled with something smooth on the bedsheets- the bottle of lube that he hadn't bothered to put away earlier. He shoved it to the side, rolling his hips up into Michael's hand with a soft moan.

Michael smirked at Geoff's willingness, letting one hand wrap around Geoff's dick, thumbing over the head. He tilted his head for a minute before moving to sit on Geoff's thighs. He arched his hips against him, testing the feeling of their cocks brushing before pressing closer and gripping at both of them with one hand. He grunted at the feeling, hips bucking slightly.

Geoff let out a contented whimper, wrapping his arms around the younger man and burying his head in Michael's shoulder. He kissed up the man's neck, rolling his hips upwards into the sweet, warm friction. He didn't want to go too fast, already on the edge of coming just because it was /Michael/, but his instincts took over and soon he was thrusting into the man's hand at a quicker pace, letting out a breathy moan or a curse every time Michael twisted his wrist in a particularly delicious way.

Michael moaned when Geoff kissed at his neck, trying to keep up the pace of his hand. He found himself getting lost in the noises Geoff was making, the arousal spiking harshly as his hips bucked up roughly. "Fuck Geoff." Michael grunted out, face heating up as their sweating bodies moved together.

Geoff nipped at Michael's neck fiercely in response, unable to form any words other than obscenities and the occasional moan of the man's name. He was coming undone at the edges, and it may not have been sweet and slow and gentle, but it was intimate in a way Geoff couldn't remember experiencing before. He didn't want it to end...

Michael's body was shuddering, and Geoff moaning his name in his ear wasn't helping the situation. He ground his hips down against him, trying to slow down the pace somewhat. His hand was starting to grow tired as well, and he twisted it sharply.

Geoff let out a small whimper when Michael slowed down, thrusting up into the man's hand more forcefully. He could feel the heat pooling low in his gut, and as much as he wanted to spill over the edge right now, he also wanted to keep his arms wrapped around Michael, letting the man work them both over until there was nothing left but this. No memories, no drug addiction, no gang full of psychopaths and criminals: just them. "Michael... Oh fuck, Michael... Michael stop, I'm gonna come."

Michael stopped his hand when Geoff asked, nearly crying out due to the fact that that was the second time that night he'd gotten close to the edge and had to be tugged back again. He set his hand on Geoff's hips, laying his forehead against Geoff's. Michael was trying not to let his hips grind too much, but his cock was hard enough to hurt and the friction relieved some of the pain. He panted quietly, a needy whine falling from his throat a few seconds after.

"Mff... Fuck," Geoff bit his lip, almost breaking the skin for the second time that day. He didn't want this to end, but he was so hard it was almost painful. "Sorry. I just- holy fuck, Michael you're so fucking perfect," he let out a small moan, pressing his lips to the other man's in a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. "What do you want? I'll fuckin- I'll do anything."

 

Michael bucked up again at the compliment, kissing back hotly. "Shit, Geoff," He moaned out. "Fuck me, please. I need you." He was shocked at his own level of coherency, his hand grabbing at Geoff's hip tightly.

Geoff nodded, grabbing the bottle of lube from where he'd tossed it earlier, and squirting some onto his fingers. He barely bothered warming it up before he was pushing Michael back onto the pillows and spreading his legs. He slipped a finger into the man, working as quickly as possible to stretch him. Michael was still a bit loose from their earlier session, but Geoff didn't want to hurt the man.

Michael bit on his knuckle when Geoff pushed a finger in, hips grinding down to meet his hand. He tugged his fingers into Geoff's hair, pulling the strands rather harshly as he let out breathy moans.

Geoff slipped in a second finger, scissoring them apart and curling his fingers, trying to give the man some form of relief. He himself was practically rutting against the mattress. Geoff kissed along Michael's thigh, running his tongue over the hickeys he'd left there as he added in a third finger.

Michael slammed his head back against the pillows when Geoff curled his fingers and they brushed against his prostate. "Fuckkk." He whined out, hips gyrating up. He hissed when Geoff started kissing, fingers pulling sharper against the strands. "Jesus Chr- o-okay, da-Geoff, fuck, fuck, please." Michael mentally cringed at the almost slip up, thankful that it most likely just sounded like mumbles anyway.

Geoff gasped when Michael tugged at his hair, unsure if it was the pain that got him off or simply the fact that it was Michael. Either way, he couldn't resist the way the flushed man writhed under his touch. "Okay, okay- just... Get me a condom," Geoff panted, motioning to his bedside table with a free hand.

Michael was quick to react to that, nodding hurriedly as he leaned over and shuffled through the drawer for one. He tugged Geoff up, ripping open the package with his teeth and stroking the older man's dick a few times before rolling the condom on.

Geoff moaned breathily when Michael touched him, quickly removing his fingers from the younger man and spreading the last of the lube covering them onto his dick. He tried not to get lost in the sensation, focusing instead on Michael, sweaty and panting, making unbelievably obscene sounds with each breath. Geoff lined himself up with Michael's entrance, pushing in a bit faster than was comfortable. He knew he wouldn't last long at this rate, but neither would Michael.

Michael shifted his hips as much as he could, urging Geoff on as he spread his legs wider to give the man more room. He moaned loudly as Geoff pushed in, turning his head to bite at a pillow. He could feel his thighs already starting to shudder and he was almost positive he could get off on just Geoff thrusting into him. He moved one of his hands from the man's hair, palming it against the back of his neck instead.

Geoff's lip actually did bleed when he bit down on it this time, trying to stem the flow of noise spilling from his lips, a mix of obscenities and "Michaels" that he was barely in control of. The younger man was tight and hot and simply perfect, and Geoff felt like he might come at any second. He pulled out shallowly, not trusting himself to make any large movements, and thrust back in.

Michael bucked up when he felt his vision growing blurry, biting down harshly on the pillow as he came with a stutter of his hips. He tugged at Geoff's hair, leaning forward to lick at the man's lip.

Michael clenching around him in the midst of his orgasm was all it took to make Geoff spill over the edge. He wasn't quite sure what he was moaning into Michael's mouth, only aware that the noises were lewd and primal. He almost collapsed when in was over, but managed to lower himself slowly so that his body was resting gently on top of the other man's, weight supported by his good side rather than his cracked ribs.

Michael panted roughly under him, pressing a kiss to the man's hair as he caught his breath. The aftershocks of pleasure were causing his body to shake slightly. He ran his hands through Geoff's hair, gently massaging at his scalp.

"Michael... Holy fuck, Michael you're amazing," Geoff breathed, letting his eyes drift closed at the gentle feeling of nails scratching at his scalp, "I- holy fuck." He felt too well-fucked to form a coherent sentence.

Michael chuckled lightly at that, yawn sneaking it's way past his mouth. "I'd compliment you back, but you probably know it all." He mused, continuing scratching at Geoff's scalp.

Geoff shook his head, gathering the energy to lift himself off of Michael and pull out. He pulled off the condom, tying the end and throwing it in the direction of the waste basket, not bothering to see if it hit its target. He rolled to the side, wrapping his arms around Michael and slotting them together like two spoons in a drawer. "No, by all means, compliment away."

Michael snuggled back into his arms, laying his head comfortably on the pillows. "You're an asshole." Michael chuckled playfully, saying the words as if they were a compliment.

"Ah, my best quality," Geoff chuckled, pressing a soft kiss into Michael's neck. He let his fingers trail over the man's chest idly, stroking the skin as if it were something precious that he felt privileged to be able to touch.

Michael wound a hand back to rub at Geoff's neck, shivering lightly at the touches. His body still felt hypersensitive, and his mind had yet to clear fully. He had an urge to say that he loved him, even if he wasn't positive if he meant it. "Hey, I'm sorry I don't tell you much about my past or anything..." He murmured quietly, eyes closing momentarily.

"It's okay," Geoff murmured, hooking his chin over Michael's shoulder, "You've got shit to sort out, I get that." He really did, now that he knew exactly what that shit was. Michael would tell him in his own time.

"Yeah, but you tell me so much; it's not fair that I'm always so closed off." Michael mumbled quietly, hand moving to push the curls from his face.

"Hey," Geoff murmured, pressing one hand to Michael's chest to get him to roll over so that the tattooed man could look him in the eye, "When I said I get it, I really do. It doesn't mean it's fair, but it means I'm not gonna blow a gasket over it. And it means you can tell me however much you want, whenever you want." If Michael was feeling guilty, Geoff wasn't going to stop him from talking. Relationships were built on trust, ill-founded or not.

Michael rolled over to look at him when Geoff prompted him to, nodding at his words. He rubbed his hands across Geoff's arms, fingers trailing along the colorful patterns. He bit at his lip, trying to decide if and what he wanted to tell.

"I-well, I don't even know where to start." Michael murmured out shakily, closing his eyes tightly. He resisted the urge to curl up, a habitual form of security. He remembered the first time he'd told Ray anything, he'd been piss drunk and coming down from a high. He'd ended up blubbering shit about never feeling love and how he'd never known what a home was. He'd ended up puking over Ray's toilet and collapsing in the younger man's embrace.

"Beginning?" Geoff asked, tucking one of Michael's curls behind his ear with an easy smile. He had to pretend he didn't know what had happened, what the younger man was about to tell him. He simply braced himself, guarding against the wave of anger that was sure to come at the mention of Reed.

"Uh, well I mean obviously I was in an orphanage. You knew that, already. I was there by the time I turned four. It wasn't so bad really, I'd never even seen another kid by the time I got there. Anyway, I was a pretty bad kid when I started to grow up; I spent most of my hours sitting in the head guy's office." Michael was hoping his voice wasn't stuttering as much as he felt like it was. "He was always really nice, even when I nearly killed a kid; he didn't get mad like all the others workers. Well, he did, but not like everyone else did."

Geoff nodded, waiting for Michael to continue. He kept his expression interested, but neutral... The younger man seemed to hate being pitied as much as Geoff hated Reed.

"I spent a lot of time at Foster Homes, but I was always new and I never really felt settled. The other kids were assholes too, little shits that had been scooped up cause they knew how to fake it. I always managed to get taken back in just a few days, no matter how much they tried to deal with my issues." Michael shrugged matter of factly, keeping his fingertips running along Geoff's arms. "Well, I'd come back and the guy would take me into the office and let me cry in the corner while he worked... Wasn't the toughest thing I could've done... But he understood. He'd carry me back to my room later, after I'd passed out."

Geoff pressed a small kiss to Michael's forehead, but didn't interrupt. To him, the man's "issues", as he put it, had always been a challenge rather than an excuse to throw him out on the streets. The boy had been rude and angry when Geoff met him, but underneath, the tattooed man had seen a bright, funny man waiting to be released. It had taken many fights and a few breakdowns, but in the end, Michael had almost become his son... And he couldn't have been more proud of the younger man.

"By the time I turned twelve, people stopped trying I guess. I think I did too, in a lot of ways. School got hard, life got hard. People stopped fostering me, and I kept running away from the orphanage. I think that was when he started to get mad at me, one time it got really bad and I called him a lot of bad shit, especially for a twelve year old. He uh, he hit me and went an entire two years without talking to me. I was fine with it, everyone started to get preoccupied with growing up and becoming teenagers." Michael shrugged again, letting his gaze fall across the room. "I was a-almost fifteen when he called me back into his office."

Geoff closed his eyes tightly, as if he could block out the words and images filling his mind. He wasn't sure if he should hold Michael close, or not touch him at all.

"He said he'd wanted to know if it was true if I was the one that had the porn stash, for the record, it wasn't me. I took the blame, it didn't matter to me either way. I didn't mind getting in trouble." Michael could tell his voice was getting quieter, the repressed memories flooding across his mind as he grabbed at Geoff's arms. "He wanted to know why, and I said I was just curious. He told me I could've just come to him, which didn't make sense cause he hadn't talked to me at all. So I told him to go fuck himself. And he hugged me." Michael closed his eyes and shook his head. "It's all so fucked up, h-he didn't touch me or anything, but he brought me home to his house that night."

Geoff nodded slowly, keeping his face as neutral as possible even though he wanted to hit something, preferably the person who'd made Michael's voice stutter like that. He ran a comforting hand through the man's hair, a silent urge for him to continue.

"He ended up explaining a lot of sex shit, and not just like the talk they teach you in school. Like everything... He explained sexuality, and how that works. He told me to be open with him and tell him how I felt and for who I felt. It was mainly just comforting touches and afternoons spent doing homework in his office until I was almost eighteen." Michael tightened his hold on Geoff's arms, face forming almost into a cringe. "I was fucking terrified, I didn't have a job and I couldn't fall back on the orphanage anymore. I'd known so many kids that left and end up homeless, just jumping from shelter to shelter. I never wanted to be that. So I swallowed my pride and lived with him, we had a bit of a fling for a while, until he started touching and demanding more aggressively, and I told him no and that I wasn't a fucking live-in whore." Michael hissed out the last bit, making sure to avoid the Geoff's eyes. "He, uh, punched me a few times and literally threw me out of the house. Told me not to come back till I learned to show my gratification." Michael tried to will away the tears, he hadn't even meant to tell Geoff all of this. So much for pacing yourself.

Geoff's face felt like stone, just a blank slab of rock with no emotion touching its surface. He kissed Michael's shoulder, hoping the action would be comfort enough... He felt sick to his stomach, especially when he knew the direction this story was taking.

grace awesomesauce: Michael moved positions, practically crawling on top of Geoff and burying his head in the crook of the man's neck. He wound his arms around Geoff's neck and still resisting the urge to cry. "I spent day's outside, I was too prideful to ask for money. A cop bought me some food. It was nice enough, but my back hurt from lying outside and I didn't want to be killed. So I went back, cold and hungry; he let me in and got me warmed up and so I started doing what he wanted." Michael murmured, making sure to let details slide. "He got me addicted to drugs, eventually he kicked me out for good. Or maybe I left, it’s hard to remember.”

Geoff thought of the other things Ray had told him, and bit his lip. He held Michael close, suddenly very aware of his own nakedness, "And then I found you, and brought you home, and fucking taught you table manners, and here we are." He emphasized the last with a kiss to the top of the younger man's head.

Michael's eyes started to water as Geoff held him, taking shaky breaths as he tried to hold on to this moment. "I hate being this broken." He murmured tiredly, fingertips clutching onto Geoff's hair.

"Hey, that's why you have me, right?" Geoff said, nuzzling his nose into Michael's hair. If the younger man was broken, then Geoff would fix him. It was the way it had been in most of his relationships; he was a protector.

Michael nodded against his skin, pulling back to run his hands along Geoff's face, as if making sure he was really there and not just a figment of his imagination. He pressed their mouths together, only slightly embarrassed by the tears falling along his cheeks.

Geoff kissed him back sweetly, letting his hands trace up and down the curve of Michael's spine as he pressed into the other man. "We should get some sleep," he murmured against the man's lips, "I have a meeting with Griffon and some of her associates at 10 tomorrow..."

Michael nodded before rolling back over. "Yeah, okay. Sleep sounds good." He muttered quietly, yawn falling from his throat. He felt a little odd that he let a lot of his secrets go, the vulnerability was intense.

 

Geoff let his eyes drift closed, and soon he was slipping into a state somewhere between waking and dreaming. His breath steadied and his anger truly faded for the first time since he'd been to Ray's.

Michael was quick to follow into the confines of sleep. His memories reawakening in his dream state and causing tremors to run through him as his mind replayed. It wasn't rare that he had nightmares.

Geoff awoke at 5am with a knot in his stomach and a blazing headache. He disentangled himself from Michael and half-ran, half-stumbled to the bathroom, emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl. Fuck... Maybe Gavin had been right about the food poisoning.

Michael groaned at the sound of puking, grabbing the pillow and tugging it tight over his ears. He sat up after he finished, rubbing his eyes and shuffling over to the bathroom sleepily. "You okay?" He questioned, voice hoarse from yesterday's sobs as he walked to wet a washcloth for the man.

"Remind me to fucking sue that Chinese place," Geoff groaned, a wet cough making its way out of his throat. He heaved again, the last of his stomach's contents spilling into the toilet. He dry heaved a couple of times, glad he hadn't grown that mustache.

Michael cringed, reaching over Geoff to flush the toilet for him. He slid the washcloth across the man's mouth, patting his back and rubbing soothing circles. "Okay." Michael murmured back, rubbing the washcloth back across his face.

Cat Astrophe: Geoff made a face at the man when he finished, standing up and flushing the toilet, "I think I'll be fine if I don't eat anything today." He wobbled over to the sink, cupping his palms under the faucet and using the water that collected there to rinse his mouth.

Michael nodded gently, continuing to rub at his back as he yawned. "Can I get you anything?"

"Nah... I'm just gonna go back to bed. I'll text Griffon to tell her I won't make it to the meeting," Geoff sighed. He shuffled out of the bathroom, collapsing on the bed. He grabbed his phone from the bedside table and shot off a quick message to Griffon, snuggling into the blankets and drifting off once more.

Michael rubbed at the sleep in his eyes, scratching lightly at the bridge of his nose before tossing the cloth in the laundry and shuffling back to the room. He grabbed out a pair of boxers, slipping them over his hips before heading out to grab something to drink. He knew even if he did try to crawl back into bed, he'd only doze off a few times.

A while later and Michael was relaxing in his house, aimlessly scrolling through the tv channels, finally smiling when he found My Little Pony on. He was sprawled out across his couch, Geoff had claimed he only had food poisoning, but Michael didn't want to risk it. Plus he could really use the downtime, and he was enjoying it immensely, sipping at his Dr.Pepper and tapping his foot along to the theme tune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay that's the last of the Geoff stuff for at least a few chapters! :) Hope you guys enjoy.  
> As always, we love hearing from you guys!


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS PLEASE READ: forced infantilism, forced daddy kink, heavy amounts of non-con, physical abuse, verbal abuse, excessive breakdowns, mentions of pedophilia, there's a lot of bad stuff, sorry if I missed anything. 
> 
>  
> 
> Things got heavy fast.

Jackson Reed never claimed to be a good person, but in his defense, he wasn't a bad one either. Sure, he sold X and heroin to teenagers who didn't have anything to their name except the clothes on their backs, used 12 and 13 year olds to transport drugs from one warehouse to another (The cops never stopped children), but he gave them food, and shelter, and some pocket money for gum or shoes or illicit porn mags; whatever the kids were into these days. In his mind, he was really doing these ungrateful brats a favor and what he gave them more than made up for the work they had to do if they wanted to stay under his roof.

Michael, though... Michael hadn't been one of his junkies. He'd been something special, something naive and angry at the world to a degree Reed had never seen before. He'd been interested. And as Michael grew up, that interest became something more. The filthy little thing fulfilled his deepest fantasies, and return Reed loved him like a son. It was more than a fair trade, but the little fag rarely saw that, never thanked his Daddy for being so fucking good to him. Reed wanted to teach him a lesson, threw him out on his ass and waited for Michael to come crawling back like he always had before. But this time, he didn't…

These were the things Jackson Reed pondered, standing outside the door of Michael's house. He was doing well for himself, by the look of things. Or at least he'd whored himself out to the right person. It didn't really matter... Reed knocked.

Michael groaned at the sound of knocking, managing to stumble up from the couch, soda can still in hand as he slammed the door open with a harsh "Wha-?" The words fell off from his mouth as he took in the man in front of him. This couldn't be happening, it wasn't real, just his eyes playing tricks on him, or a nightmare. That was it, Jackson wasn't standing in front of him right now. He moved to shut the door back as quickly as he could, confusion turning to fear, turning straight to brutal panic.

Jackson shook his head in disappointment. Michael was a lot of things, but he'd never been cowardly, not when he'd known the boy. He guessed whoever Michael was fucking had sucked that right out of him. He knocked again, more forcefully. "Michael, be a good boy, and open the door."

Michael ran his hands over his face, shoving his palms against his eyes and feeling his breathing speeding up too fast for comfort. Everything he'd worked to forget about the man was coming to the surface. "What the fuck do you want?!" Michael hissed back at the door, kicking his foot against it in frustration.

"I want us to talk," Jackson said calmly, pursing his lips at the boy's language. He thought he'd trained Michael out of that. 'Fuck' was such a dirty word, completely inappropriate for the boy to use when talking to his Daddy. "Open the door, Michael. Don't make me ask again."

 

Michael let out a laugh at that, shaking his head in disbelief. This couldn't be happening, there was no fucking way. "No, fuck you." Michael called out, hissing it out again just for added effect. And in a sudden surge of panic he realized he hadn't locked it, he rushed forward to flick it locked as quickly as he could.

Jackson sighed, jiggling the door handle. It was locked, as expected. He could always pick it, he had plenty of experience, but that would take far too long. "Michael, don't make me break a window. Your house is much too nice for that." He made sure to use his scolding tone, the one that had made the boy drop to his knees and blow him just to make sure he was happy. It probably still worked; Jackson was talented like that.

Michael took a breath, shaking his head to clear his mind. He weighed his options, he really didn't want a broken window... But he also really just wanted the man to go away. "Fuck off!" He called out. His past self was cringing at his blatant disobedience, but he didn't owe this man shit anymore.

Jackson sucked his teeth, sliding off the jacket he was wearing despite the extreme, summer heat of Los Santos. He stepped off Michael's front porch, sidling around to one of the windows. It had its curtains drawn, but it didn't really matter at this point. The glass looked cheap, and Jackson was strong, despite his lean appearance. He held his jacket up to the glass, preparing to smash it in with an elbow. "Open the door, Michael. This is your last chance," he stated calmly, voice loud enough to carry through the thin window.

Michael glared at the window before huffing and unlocking the door and opening it. He brought his arms tight around himself, crossing them over his chest and making sure to stand as confidently as he could manage.

"Thank you," Jackson smiled, shrugging his jacket back on and stepping back onto the porch. He gave Michael a once over, crossing his arms and tutting in disapproval. The boy's hair was long and unkempt, and he could see a hint of pudge beneath the t-shirt he was wearing. "You've let yourself go."

Michael glared back, lips turning up into a snarl. "You got old, what are you, sixty now?" He hissed back, though he couldn't help the words stinging through. He knew very well he'd chubbed up a little since he'd started enjoying full on meals and dropped the drugs.

Jackson raised an eyebrow, reaching forward to grip the boy's jaw in one hand. "Don't disrespect me, Michael. Who told you you're allowed to do that, hmm? Obviously whoever you've been whoring yourself out to lately doesn't know what a dirty little mouth you have when he's not looking." His grip on Michael's chin was almost bruisingly forceful, enough that the bit would have to struggle quite a bit to get away. Jackson dug his long fingernails into the skin, making sure that if Michael did wrench away, it would leave a mark.

 

Michael grabbed at the man's wrist, trying to tug his hand off of his jaw. His nails stung, but he didn't dare yank away, not wanting to sport a mark for a few days. "Fuck you, Jackson. Fuck you and your disturbed fucking mind you piece of shit." He seethed out, kicking sharply at the man's leg. Every touch from the man was making his mind swarm with memories, and he hated every moment of it. He needed this man to know just how much he hated him.

Jackson clucked his tongue in disapproval, taking a step closer towards the boy. Michael would either have to touch him, or back through the doorway, and then they could really talk. "You shut your dirty whore mouth, Michael. I thought I'd gotten you out of the habit of using that filthy language."

Michael backed up, desperate to not get anywhere near the man if he could help it. He flinched at the words out of habit, before training his face into a look of uncaring. "The only filthy thing here is you." Michael growled back, but he didn't curse anymore at him.

Jackson's lips curved upwards into a smile as Michael stepped backwards. He slipped through the doorframe, not letting go of the boy's chin and closing the door behind him with his free hand. "What happened to you, baby boy? You used to be so good for me..." He tried a softer tactic, stroking Michael's cheek with the back of his hand. He'd missed the way the boy looked tied down, and briefly wondered how far and how fast he could take this.

Michael tried to shake his head despite the grasp, arching his head away from the caress. His teeth were gritted together as he brought his other hand up to try and tug the man's hand away from his face. "Cause you fucking made me, you asshole."

"That's not the way I remember it... You came crawling back to me, begging me to take you back. I don't recall you complaining when I was fucking you." Jackson's smile was sweet on the surface, but his eyes were cold and cruel. "I took you in, Michael... Took care of you when no one else wanted you. You see your Daddy again after all these years, and this is how you repay me? Apologize."

Michael was quick to shake his head frantically, hands moving up to the man's chest to try to get him to stop being so close. He attempted to block out the words, but even so he felt the truth in them. "No, no." He hissed out as angry as he could manage. "Get the fuck out of my house."

"/Your/ house?" Jackson raised a brow, "How'd you afford it? I never thought you'd actually whore yourself out; that's low, even for you, Michael." Disgusting, filthy, dirty wretch... Jackson missed the days when it was just them: Michael lying on the couch, high as a kite and willing to do anything to please his Daddy. When he was good, Daddy brought him presents or sucked him off. When he wasn't... Well, every naughty brat deserved to be punished.

 

"I'm not whoring myself out for it." Michael defended, "I fucking pay for it myself. It's mine, and to be perfectly fucking honest, I want you out of it." Michael attempted to speak confidently, struggling against the man's grasp and beginning to fumble for his phone, sitting in his left pocket.

Jackson chuckled in disbelief, releasing Michael's chin only to grab at his curls, clenching them tightly. "Your hair's too long," he commented absently, ignoring the boy's comment about wanting him gone. "Do you want me to cut it for you? I always used to..." He'd usually finish trimming the boy's hair by fucking him in the shower, or on the floor of the bathroom.

Michael wanted to kick himself for whimpering as he tugged at his hair, it had nothing to do with the pain and all to do with the fact that he didn't want the man to dare cut off a strand. His eyes went wide and he shook his head, flinching when the motion caused his hair to be pulled sharply. "No, I don't." He seethed out, cringing when he remembered what happened after. He'd repressed so much of it, it was easy to forget when he was high and greedy.

"Mm, you've got to do it sometime. You look like a bum," Jackson noted, stepping a little bit closer to The boy. He stroked Michael's cheek with his free hand, "My baby boy never looked this messy. What happened to you, hmm?"

Michael wanted to die when he realized his phone wasn't charged, the thing only dinged pitifully when he tried to turn it on so that he could quick dial Geoff. He huffed loudly, pulling away from Jackson and heading towards the kitchen. He just really needed to get away, just a few feet away from the man and then he could think again.

Jackson sighed, sinking down on the couch and watching Michael move about the kitchen. He had to admit, the boy's ass looked fantastic in those jeans... Maybe he'd let him keep them when this was all over, He spotted a white stain on the leather of Michael's couch, wrinkling his nose in disgust. So much for not whoring himself out.

Michael turned on the sink, running his hands under the cold water and splashing some on his face. He could feel his stomach tensing painfully, the panic was fully setting in and his hands were shaking too fast for comfort as he hunched over the sink. He knew he wasn't actually sick when he gagged into the sink and it had so much more to do with who was sitting in his living room.

Jackson stood up when he heard Michael gag, walking over to the sink and rubbing the man's back in slow circles. His nails caught momentarily on the fabric, but the threads tore easily and soon he was picking up a soothing rhythm. "What's wrong, baby boy? You sick? Do you need me to make you feel better?" It was a call back to old times, when Michael was coming off his high of X and roofies. He'd beg Jackson so prettily to make him feel better. The older man had been happy to oblige, slipping a cocktail of drugs into the boy's bloodstream and letting the boy kiss him greedily, thanking him with a hand down his pants or lips around his cock.

 

"S-s-stop fucking touching me." Michael practically fucking whimpered, hands clutching painfully onto the side of the counter. "Y-y-you're making this worse, you're making fucking everything worse." He couldn't help gagging again, the touches only spurring him further into nausea.

"Ssh, ssh..." Jackson soothed, not bothering to take his hands of the boy. In fact, he leaned forwards and nipped at Michael's ear, whispering his words into, "Daddy's got you now, yeah? You need your medicine?" He doubted the not was clean; even his most tenacious junkies couldn't kick his special cocktails.

Michael shook his head furiously, trying to wriggle away from the man the best he could. "Fuck you, no. I'm clean, I don't do that shit anymore." He gagged again, this time actually managing to spit out something. He wanted Geoff, or Gavin, or Ray, or Ryan, or Jack. Hell, he'd even take Caleb at this point.

Jackson snorted in disbelief; Michael didn't have the willpower. "You want some? I think I have a some in my car..." he mused, stroking his hand up to grab a the boy's hair again, forcing him to look Jackson in the eye. The craving never went away... The older man knew that; he'd been clean for ten and a half years now, and he still couldn't sell coke. Heroin and X and prescription meds were his game, and those were good enough to get anyone addicted, especially with the way he mixed them.

Michael shook his head furiously, eyes determined no matter how hard the craving hit. He didn't want it, he was too terrified of taking it while around him. He lashed out then, suddenly, fists trying to lay in at least one good punch. He used his feet to try and kick out at the man, well aware he was using cheap hits and kicks. His emotions were high and he was quickly resorting back to confused violence.

The first punch hit Jackson in the shoulder, knocking him back a few steps. He growled low in his throat; he knew this game. Michael would lash out and scream like a toddler until he was restrained. Hell, he'd seen it before he'd starting living with the boy; at the orphanage, there had always been some kid or another running to him with a bloody nose and tears running down their face, screaming that Michael had hit them. So Jackson did now what he did back then, wrapping his arms tightly around the boy, letting him beat his fists into the older man's chest until he quieted.

"Fuck you! I hate you, you goddamned son of a bitch!" Michael seethed, face contorted in an almost hysterical bout of rage. "You fucker! Your dad didn't ever fucking love you so now you have to take it out on everyone else! You're fucking pathetic, a stupid fucking cunt bitch!" Michael did exactly what he'd always done, spouted off every detail he knew about someone and paired it with the worst insults he could think of. He hit his fists as hard as he, could, attempting to slam some up in the man's face, though they both knew Jackson knew how to dodge him better than anyone. His coherent words fiddled off into more high-pitched yells.

 

Jackson twisted his lips into a grimace, ducking out of the way when any of the boy's wild punches almost hit home. Of course Michael didn't understand; he never had. Jackson took these shells, these little nothings of children and made them important. He sated cravings, let people feel /good/, even if he wasn't always there to pick them up when they were broke and going through withdrawal. Michael should know better than anyone how good he was, given the fact that he'd taken the boy in and taught him and fucked him until he became something actually desirable.

Michael struggled longer than he thought was possible for him, fighting every urge to just collapse, furious fists turned feeble and huffs and pants started to replace the yells. He felt sweaty and shaky, and his head was spinning from the screaming. He tried to pull away, tried to struggle so he could just collapse on the floor.

"Calm down now, it'll be okay," Jackson rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, forcing Michael to mimic the soothing motion. He pressed a kiss into the boy's curls, whispering pacifying words into his hair: "Daddy's got you, ssh. There's my baby boy..."

Michael's could feel the pain in his knuckles, they were busted and he was nearly shocked he hadn't broken them with the frantic force of his punches. He slid his hands to the man's chest, trying to force him farther away. "I'm not your fucking baby, stop." His voice was rough and scratchy, and to be honest he wasn't surprised by how pitiful the words sounded. He hated every moment of this, hated how his body wanted nothing more to fall into the comfortable embrace, while his brain was shouting at him to fight more.

"You'll always be my baby boy, Michael," Jackson smiled down at him, removing one of his hands from Michael's back to cup the boy's chin in his hand. He forced him to look up, meeting the older man's eyes as he pressed a gentle kiss to Michael's lips.

Michael growled into the man's lips, trying to force his mouth away. The gentleness felt too captivating and he just wanted it all to stop. He slammed his hands into the man's chest, arching his back to try and struggle from the grip.

Jackson only chuckled when Michael hit him; they both knew that the older man was much too strong for the boy to fight against. He'd proven that many times before. He continued to kiss Michael, forcing his tongue in between the boy's lips, effectively holding him captive with his hands. Michael would give in, give up... He was a weak and spineless little spitfire, all bark and no bite.

Michael tried to back up, tried to scramble away from the invasive tongue. He clawed his fingernails across the man's chest, panic setting in as his face flushed visibly. He knew he didn't want this, or at least he felt like he didn't want it. He'd moved on, he'd changed; he'd become an adult with an ability to make decisions and be whoever the hell he wanted to be. He didn't owe this man anything, but that wasn't stopping him and Michael knew that much. He wanted to call Geoff, beg the man to come get him but there was the ever growing feeling that he was letting this happen. He knew it wasn't fair, there was no way Geoff could've known what was happening; that was unrealistic but never the less a slight feeling of betrayal hit harshly at his stomach.

Jackson stepped forwards, forcing Michael to do the same, pressing the boy back against the refrigerator. He remove his hands from Michael's face and back, instead bracketing him in with his arms and pressing in close so that their chests were pressed together. He continued to kiss the boy greedily, invading and exploring his mouth with a wet tongue. He'd missed this... /God/, he'd missed this.

Michael wished he could get enough room in between them to knee at the man's groin. He could feel the closeness triggering his body to react in ways he felt like he didn't want; his body losing the tenseness it had before. He almost regretted it when he bit down on the Jackson's tongue, almost. He tried to keep his face stony, tried to keep the emotions from lacing his features. He would not give the older man the pleasure of it.

"Fuck!" Jackson withdrew his tongue, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You little bitch..." Maybe the boy had developed a spine after all. Well, this could be interesting if he used it to his advantage. He forced a knee between Michael's legs, gripping the boy's chin with his free hand. He didn't kiss him again, only stared him down with a disappointed expression. "I thought I taught you better, Michael."

Michael tried to not let the satisfied smirk show on his face at Jackson's retreat, he knew it wouldn't last long and he was proved by the knee the man forced up against him. He squirmed his hips, mostly because he was slightly afraid that the man would knee him harshly. He flinched lightly at the painful grasp on his chin. "Fuck you." He seethed out, cringing when he recalled the rare times he'd actually cursed in front of the man when he was living with him. He'd dragged him to the bathroom, forcing a bar of soap straight into his mouth to clean it out.

Jackson let out a low growl, slamming his knee up into Michael's crotch. He wasn't usually a violent person, but he was reaching the end of his patience with the boy. "What happened to you, baby boy? Used to be so good for me, now you're hitting and cussing at me. Am I going to have to teach you all over again?"

A pained whimper fell from Michael's throat when the man's knee made contact sharply, moving a hand to his mouth so that he could bite the knuckle in an attempt to keep the stinging at bay. "Why are you here? Go home, let me go just get the fuck away from me, please. I don't want you. I have a new goddamned life, one I don't want you in."

Jackson sighed, stepping back, letting the boy have room to breath. He looked Michael up and down, clucking his tongue in disapproval. "Somebody wants me dead, baby boy. At least that's what it generally means when se two bit thugs jump you in a back alley. Something about fucking their boss's boyfriend... Or fucking with, I can't really recall." Jackson's lips curled into an unkind smile, "And since I haven't been fucking anyone lately, I had to think... Who's too much of a spineless bitch to take me out himself." It wasn't the entire truth; he'd thought it might've been one of the rich brats he dealt to at first. But then a second group of men tried to beat him senseless, and they'd happened to be stupid enough to tell him what he'd supposedly done. Jackson had laid one out with a punch to the jaw, and ran.

Michael gripped at the fridge with one hand, supporting himself as he hunched over slightly. The words confused him for the most part, he hadn't so much as thought about killing the man, or getting anyone else to kill him. He furrowed his brow, he'd told Geoff; but he hadn't told Geoff the man's name or the name of his orphanage or anything else about him. He hadn't even told him any of the bad shit. There was no way Geoff had gotten anyone to go find him and kill him. It simply wasn't realistic. "I-I honest to fucking God don't know what you're talking about." He hissed out, shaking his head and trying to catch his breath.

Jackson raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms, assuming the position he held when scolding children at the orphanage. "Is that right?" he said, prompting the boy to elaborate.

"I mean, don't get me wrong. I'm glad as fuck someone has it out for you. But it isn't me, I haven't told anyone anything important." Michael muttered, trying not to downcast his eyes as he let his body slump back against the fridge.

Jackson furrowed his brow worriedly, reaching out to stroke Michael's cheek, "In that case, I'm sorry I hurt you, baby boy. How about we start over?" He wasn't sure whether or not what Michael was saying was strictly true, but he doubted the boy knew anything important. For now, he'd rather enjoy himself.

"No, leave. I told you what you wanted, now get the fuck out." Michael grumbled out, leaning his head back against the fridge and shoving the man's hand away from his face.

"After I've just found you?" Jackson asked, smiling down at Michael warmly. "It's been so long, baby boy. I'm not leaving your side for awhile." He twisted the words coyly, flashing his teeth at Michael in an expression that was more a threat than a smile.

Michael practically snarled in his throat, moving to stand up straighter before attempting to dart around the man, he just had to make it to the door, he just needed to run. He'd done it before, escaped multiple of the orphanage workers from grabbing him as he took off into the streets. Of course, he had been younger than, and smaller, and more agile; but his determination to get away from Jackson was still thick. He knew Jackson had already set himself a challenge, to get Michael back the way he was before; and Michael hated to admit the fact that he didn't have the willpower to not break.

Jackson snagged Michael's wrist as the boy moved to dart around him. He wasn't sure if it was enough to hold Michael now that he was older, stronger, but it had been in the old days. The boy had learned to collapse when Jackson grabbed him.

Michael wanted to blame the exhaustion and the soreness in his wrist when he fell. He wanted to blame the awkward angle of the tug as his ass hit the floor. He didn't want to blame it on his own residual will to obey, it didn't happen because he needed to obey. It happened because he was rehashing through memories and his living memory was standing in front of him.

Jackson chuckled lightheartedly, slipping around Michael to kneel in front of the boy. He put his hands on Michael's thighs, trapping him in place once more. "Are you gonna be good for me, baby boy? I don't want to hurt you." He massaged Michael's thighs gently, leaning forwards until the boy could smell the mint gum he'd been chewing on his breath.

Michael couldn't bite back the slight moan as his hands worked across his thighs, shaking his head harshly as he tried to scamper backwards; though it was futile. " 'm not yours." Michael mumbled, wincing at the pain in his throat which was still scratched raw from his earlier screaming. "Stop."

Jackson pursed his lips, giving Michael a disappointed look. He gripped the boy's chin, forcing him to look at the older man. "You are mine, remember? You're my little whore, as I recall." He had no idea if Michael remembered saying that, as high as he'd been, but promises had been made, and Jackson wasn't about to let them slide.

Michael didn't answer back this time, just kept his face stony and cold as he stared up at the man. He remembered back then, when he was always about pleasing the older man, always wanting to make sure he understood how good Michael could be. He'd been young and desperate for affection, not to mention the countless highs he found himself chasing. Jackson had became the family Michael had never had, he'd been the only one to care when the entire world turned their back on him.

"I missed you, my sweet boy..." Jackson murmured. His expression would have been kind if it wasn't for the way he was moving his hand up Michael's thigh and the ever-present coldness in his eyes. He had missed him: missed fucking him, missed the noises he made, missed his baby smooth skin and pretty brown eyes.

"Please don't." Michael tried, pouting his lip out subconsciously as his hand trailed higher. "M-m-my friends' are on their way." He knew it was a shitty attempt at a lie, but he needed the man to stop. Needed him to stop before Michael fell straight back into the realms of his past.

"Ssh, baby. You don't need to be scared. I'm going to be gentle..." Jackson soothed, his hand moving up further to palm Michael through his jeans. He kissed the boy, once again snaking his tongue out to invade Michael's mouth. He wouldn't bite down this time; Jackson was in control.

Michael yelped when Jackson slid his palm to the front of his jeans, his dick hardening whether or not his brain was begging the man to stop. He could feel every bit of him falling into the embrace, every ounce of him craving the affectionate touches. He didn't kiss back, didn't move his hands from their grip on the floor; but he didn't fight it.

Jackson popped the button on Michael's pants, not really one for foreplay, and continued to grind his hand against the boy's cock. He kissed Michael languidly, as if he had all the time in the world to greedily sink his teeth into the boy's lower lip, tease him to the very edge of coming and stop. Good little boys had to earn their rewards, and Jackson didn't think Michael really behaved today.

Michael arched his hips up into the man's hand, gasps falling their way from his throat no matter how hard he tried to stop. He moved a hand to clutch onto the man's shirt, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. He wanted to cry when he finally kissed back, mouth betraying him as he leaned closer forward. God, he hated himself almost as much as he hated Jackson.

Jackson pulled back from the kiss, eyes alight with triumph and a wicked smile on his face. "Are you going to be a good boy, Michael?" He asked, stroking the boy's cheek with the back of one hand. "Show me how good you are, baby."

Michael didn't answer, didn't dare move an inch. He resisted the urge to nod furiously, instead he just sat there panting and blinking away tears that were already threatening to fall.

Jackson sighed. He preferred it when Michael would beg the older man to touch him. But he really shouldn't expect the boy to get back in the swing of things immediately; someone had broken his little whore while he was away. He slipped his hand into Michael's boxers, giving the boy's cock a light stroke, hoping it would spur him into being a bit more vocal.

Michael bucked automatically, bringing his arm up to cover his mouth as he laid back against the hardwood floor. He hated it, the vulnerability, the way he was sprawled out across the floor; enjoying himself way too much for it even to be counted as anything but compliant. /You sick fuck/ Michael thought to himself, none of it directed at the man above him and all directed towards himself. He bit into his arm so that the man didn't get the satisfaction of hearing him so much as breathe.

Jackson crawled over top of Michael, pinning the boy's hips with his own body. He thumbed the head of Michael's cock, picking up a brutal pace that usually had him writhing underneath the older man within minutes. "It's alright, baby boy, you can talk to me. Use that pretty little mouth of yours, hmm?"

Michael shook his head back and forth harshly, the hard wood clattering almost painfully at his skull. He could feel every ounce of him betraying himself, hips wiggling and back arching as tears spiked up at the sides of his eyes at the brutal pace of the touches. He moaned loudly, clamping a hand to his mouth just to shut himself up. He refused to give him the satisfaction.

 

"Oh, Michael..." Jackson shook his head, "Never know when to give in, do you, baby boy? I've got your dick in my hand and still you think you can disobey your Daddy? You're already mine, baby." Jackson leaned forwards, using his free hand to pull Michael's arm away from his mouth, kissing along the boy's jaw line.

Michael could feel the shudders start to form at his thighs, his body arching greedily into the touches. It took longer than it usually had to bring him close, partly due to age and partly due to the fact that he wasn't encouraged by mind-loosening drugs. He whimpered at the kisses, chin arching away as much as he could manage. "F-f-fuck." It wasn't what Jackson wanted, he knew that; he took pride in knowing that wasn't what he meant when he wanted him to talk.

Jackson resolved to clean the boy's mouth out with soap at a later date, twisting his wrist and swiping his thumb over the head of Michael's cock in a way that would almost surely bring him close to the edge. And then he stopped, took his hand from Michael's pants and instead used it to cup the boy's face so that he was forced to look up at Jackson. Michael knew what he was supposed to do; they'd played this game enough back in the good old days: he begged or he blew him.

Michael's hips bucked at the twist, arch backing even more into the man's hand; groan falling from his mouth huskily. And then, nothing; his hips tried to push up, meeting nothing but air. He glared at the man above him, teeth drawn back in a snarl as his body shook. "You asshole, you fucking piece of shit." Maybe, maybe if he could just get the man to go away, he could get himself off. There was no way he was resorting back to his previous self, though even he thought that that was a lie.

Jackson clucked his tongue disapprovingly, "Watch your language, Michael." He traced a finger over the boy's lips before forcing two inside; an effective gag that allowed the general point of Michael's words to be gotten across, but also discouraged speaking. He shifted his hips, grinding down just slightly enough so that the boy could feel Jackson's erection against his own, but be unable to obtain relief.

/Don't break, don't break/ Michael tried to will himself to think, swallowing around the fingers habitually. Michael couldn't help letting out a loud moan, or as much of one as he could make around the fingers, when Jackson's hips grinding against his own. He felt his eyes water slightly as he tried to shake his head. He hated that he wanted it so bad, hated that his body was slowly taking over his mind, hated that the man had so many spells over him. "Please." The word sounded muffled around the man's fingers.

"Please what, baby boy? Use your words," Jackson smiled, removing his fingers from Michael's mouth. He was the picture of in control, despite his slightly flyaway hair and rumpled clothes. He touched Michael like he owned him, like he was something useful but easy to replace and relatively cheap, eyes sparkling cruely.

 

"Please, please let me come." Michael didn't refer to him as daddy, he couldn't do that. It was too much too fast and he was only trying to imagine he was with someone else. He blinked away the tears, he had no pride left and he knew that all too well. He tried to reach out his hands to touch himself, he just wanted it all to be over.

Jackson smacked the boy's hands away, pinning one down and grabbing the other by the wrist, pulling it forwards to rest on his crotch. "I don't see why I should... You haven't been a good boy, have you? You need to make it up to me." He shifted his hips, grinding into Michael's hand.

Michael didn't answer, only rolling his eyes out of habit. He knew it would be taken as a sign of disrespect, so he quickly cast his eyes back down, staring to the left and at the floor. He cupped his hand, pushing the heel of his palm into the older man's erection.

"Good boy," Jackson murmured, brushing Michael's curls out of his eyes with his now free hand. He ground against the boy's palm, but with little conviction. He wasn't going to come in his pants, he was much too old for that, but if Michael wasn't going to show any initiative, then there wasn't much else he could do. Maybe get the boy to blow him afterwards...

Michael trained into muscle memory, hands only slightly shaky as he undid the button of the man's jeans, pulling the zipper down and tugging a hand into the man's boxers. He felt too familiar in his hand, too comfortable. It sent shivers down his spine.

Jackson didn't moan, didn't cry out in pleasure, only grinned predatorily down at Michael as he thrust forwards, letting his own hips do most of the work. He briefly regretted not getting the boy's pretty, little mouth around his cock, but there was plenty of time for that later. For now, he was content to let his baby boy please him and beg him to come.

Michael really wished his hand wasn't pinned down, his hips were still occasionally squirming and he was starting to get impatient. Michael let his hand twist slightly, looking up at him with almost timid looking brown eyes.

"Mm, baby, are you uncomfortable? Do you need Daddy to take care of you?" Jackson murmured, speeding up his hips. How different someone else's hand felt from his own had always surprised him, and Michael's had always been soft like a child's, given that he was one. Even now that he was older, the boy's large hand was warm and timid in its movements, and it made Jackson feel hot and animalistic, as if he could tear Michael to shreds if he wanted to.

"Please, fu-" Michael cut off his curse mid-sentence, not wanting to have those disappointed eyes on him again. He moved the pad of his thumb across the head of the man's dick, flicking his tongue out subconsciously. He could tell he was flushing harshly, he was hard enough that it was starting to hurt.

 

Jackson took pity on the boy, releasing his wrist and snaking a hand into his pants, stroking slowly. He was on the edge now, and a couple more delicious pleas from Michael would probably send him over it.

Michael was desperate against him, hips furiously trying to grind up into his hand to get the relief he needed so badly. He kept working his hand on the man's cock the best he could. "Ah, ah.. D-daddy, ah please." Michael moaned, too far gone to cringe at the word and only knowing he needed to get Jackson to move his hand just a little bit faster.

That was it. Jackson spilled over, coming in hot spurts across Michael's hand and, regrettably, his own clothes. He let the boy milk his orgasm from him, only speeding up his strokes when he'd finished. He twisted his wrist, thumbing the head of Michael's cock and leaning over him, capturing the boy's lips in an open mouthed kiss.

Michael wiped his hand off on the man's jeans, though he simply grabbed tightly at the man's thigh when he finally sped up his hand. He came quickly, hips bucking frantically as he did so. His cry was muffled by Jackson's lips and he could feel the hot tears falling from his face. He felt exhausted, humiliated, and ashamed. He didn't think he'd be able to get any of his pride back for at least a few hours.

Jackson stroked Michael's cheek with the back of his hand, "There's my baby boy. I missed you." He removed his hand from the boy's pants, wiping his hand on Michael's shirt and huffing in disapproval when not all the spunk came off. He tapped a finger of the soiled hand on the boy's lips, "Let's clean up, hmm?"

Michael nodded at him, sniffling as his eyes continued to water. He hated himself for letting this happen, hated the fact that he wasn't sure if the gang would ever check on him. He didn't have those doubts before, but now they were prominent. "Okay." He mumbled hoarsely.

Jackson stood, not bothering to pick Michael up off the floor, and walked over to the sink. He rinsed his hands quickly, wiping at the semen on his shirt and pants with a dishrag. It didn't come off fully, but Jackson figured he could probably get the stains out in the wash.

Michael tucked himself back in his boxers before pressing the side of his face against the wood tile. It felt nice on his flushed skin, and he had to will himself to stand up. He'd gotten spoiled by not having to do anything after sex, but he knew that wasn't the way Jackson worked. He clambered to his feet, briefly thinking about taking off out the door while Jackson's back was turned.

Jackson re-buttoned his pants and smoothed his shirt, running one hand through his hair to calm the flyaway strands. He opened Michael's fridge, grabbing a beer and popping the top.

 

Michael debated against it, instead moving across the living room and towards his bathroom. He kicked the door open easily, turning on the sink and splashing some of the cold water on his face before grabbing a wash cloth and attempting to clean up only for a few seconds before moving towards his bedroom to just grab a fresh outfit.

Jackson collapsed onto Michael's couch, taking a swig of his beer and waiting for the boy to return. He propped his feet on the coffee table, making himself at home. He wanted to curl up with Michael like they used to, watch TV and stroke his hair. It wasn't the physical sensation of touching as much as it was the way the boy looked completely submissive and sucked up to him like a codependent leech.

Michael stripped of his clothes, trying to rid himself of feeling used. He tugged on a fresh pair of underwear, grabbing out some sweats and a tank top as well. He glanced at himself in the mirror, wiping furiously at his tear stained cheeks, wiping hesitant fingers across bruised lips. He took a breath before willing the cold stony look back onto his face. He plugged his phone in, trying to decide who to call. Geoff was still sick, and Gavin was with a girl, he was pretty sure Ray was blazing. Jack wouldn't. And he was ninety percent sure Ryan wasn't supposed to talk to him anymore. He felt weak and broken, he /looked/ worse. He hovered his fingers over the call button.

Jackson fiddled with the remote, turning on the TV and flipping through channels. He settled on news, sipping his beer to the background noise of gang violence and drug busts.

Michael stared at the phone, huffing as his mind reeled. They wouldn't pick up, he knew they wouldn't. He threw out his fist suddenly, yanking the phone from the charging cord and straight at the wall. He grimaced when it shattered, rubbing at his face once more before slipping from his room and towards the kitchen. He needed a beer.

"Hey, baby boy," Jackson hummed, turning away from the TV, "Come sit down." He patted the space beside him, the one with the white stain on the leather.

Michael shook his head, barely giving the man a glance before heading to the kitchen, rolling his eyes at the pet name. To be honest, he was just glad the man hadn't called him Mikey yet, or god forbid his middle name. He opened the fridge, bending over to grab out a beer.

Jackson sucked his teeth, turning his attention back to the TV. A female reporter decked in too much makeup was standing in front of a dumpster in a back alley, looking uncomfortable. "Earlier today, a body was found in the dumpster of the South Oaks strip mall. The victim has been identified as Kate Pirot, 27. Investigators say that they cannot accurately determine time of death until further analysis, given the amount of animal activity in the area. Pirot appears to be the victim of torture, but if this is the work of a serial killer or the result of gang activity is currently unknown. More on this story as it develops."

 

Michael glanced up at the tv, Ryan had been expertly right in how long it would take them to find her body. He could still remember holding her cold form. He slammed the cap of his bottle against the counter before taking a swig of the drink and meandering back into the living room. He plopped himself in the armchair, staring aimlessly at the TV.

"How old are you now, 25?" Jackson asked, turning his attention back to Michael. He really did want to give the boy a haircut; get him back into shape. The belly he'd developed wasn't doing him any favors, in Jackson's opinion. Otherwise, though, the years apart had treated Michael well; his ass looked amazing, his skin wasn't covered in acne as it sometimes had been in the old days, and he seemed healthy, if rude and unkempt. He'd gotten out of the habit of shaving, though, and it mad Jackson grimace; something else he'd have to fix.

"26." Michael corrected, shrugging his shoulders. He didn't bother meeting the man's eyes as the man attempted some sort of small talk. "What are you now? 100?" Yes, Michael great idea, further insult the man who had already proved how in control of you he actually was. Seems valid.

"47," Jackson intoned, unperturbed. His age had never been a particular sore spot for him. No, what really got under his skin were ungrateful brats and addiction to cocaine, even if he was clean. "You stopped shaving, too. In addition to the hair and the-" he gestured to Michael's figure. So many bad habits... He'd really have to find out who'd broken his baby boy.

"Yeah, well it's nice to not have someone breathing down my neck and nagging about it all the time." Michael grumbled out. He'd always been watching Michael's food intake, it was rare he ever had so much as a candy bar around the man. When Geoff had found him, he'd handed him multitudes of comfort food. He flinched never the less, he'd been meaning to go to a gym and lose some of the weight anyway but.. The words still stung.

Jackson sucked his teeth in disapproval. "Who told you you could be so rude to me, hmm?" He raised an eyebrow at Michael, clearly expecting an answer.

"Look, dude. I don't owe you jack shit anymore. I don't have to play your stupid fucking game." Michael hissed out, subconsciously curling further into the armchair.

"Language," Jackson murmured warningly. "I took you in, Michael Vincent," he made sure to use the boy's middle name to show just how serious he was. "Nobody else wanted to take care of a snot-nosed, disrespectful brat like you, but we're family. We take care of each other, remember?"

Michael flinched at the name, as much as he hated it the words rang true in his ears. He mumbled a quiet "yeah" and turned his attention back to the tv, he really didn't want to talk to this man anymore, it was too much effort.

 

"Hey, I'm sorry baby boy," Jackson murmured gently, "Come here." He patted the spot beside him invitingly, beckoning the boy to move into his embrace.

Michael huffed before taking another swig of the beer and watching Jackson's gaze warily. After he swallowed it down and removed the bottle from his lips he spoke"Did you really miss me?" Michael hated the sound of his voice as he curled his feet up under him. The words were scratchy against his throat, his voice sounded too young, too naive.

Jackson's face softened and he stood, walking over to the armchair to press a kiss to Michael's forehead. He stroked the boy's hair soothingly, gently turning Michael's head to face him. "Of course I did, baby. I meant it when I said we were family."

Michael looked up at him with watering brown doe eyes, he should've been better at fighting off the urge to wrap his arms around the man's stomach. But the neediness of his personality had him hugging the man and letting his head rest against Jackson.

"I've got you, baby boy," Jackson murmured, pressing a kiss into Michael's curls and making a face. But he'd fix the boy up soon enough, and then the real fun could begin. "You wanna move over to the couch? We can watch something- whatever you want, hmm?"

Michael nodded against him. "My Little Pony?" He murmured quietly, already moving to stand up from the armchair.

Jackson suppressed a snort, but nodded, leading Michael over to the couch and pulling the boy onto his lap. He handed Michael the remote, unsure of just what channel he should flip too. The boy was so childish sometimes.

Michael changed the channel over to the recorded episodes of it, falling into the man's embrace and nuzzling his face into the man's chest. He yawned tiredly, eyes already starting to droop shut.

Jackson wound his hand into the boy's hair, tugging lightly to get Michael to move his head over to the man's shoulder. He didn't pay attention to the screen, already put off by the bright colors and cheery voices, instead enjoying the way Michael clung to him. He ran a hand over the boy's back, prepared to grab the remote and change the channel as soon as he fell asleep.

Michael wound his hands into the man's shirt, bunching the fabric slightly as his body fell more against him. His eyes shutting rather quickly, the bright lights of the show tiring them more than before. He knew it was probably habitual, he couldn't count how many times the man had sat him on his lap and rubbed comforting touches until he gave into the confines of sleep.

Jackson sat back, changing back over to a local news station and turning down the volume to a low hum. He let it play as background noise as he thought, idly stroking Michael's back as he planned. A hair cut was his first order of business, but from there it was unclear. It wouldn't take awhile to get the boy back in shape, and without Jackson feeding his addiction, the older man was unsure of how pliant he'd be. He had a couple samples in his van; perhaps they'd be enough to tempt Michael back into taking his medicine. The shaving was another thing, given that Jackson didn't really want to shower with the boy. Perhaps he'd just sit watch; Michael was always so vulnerable when he was naked.

Michael furrowed his brow when the nightmare hit, he was back in the orphanage, hands trembling as he ran through the halls, it seemed never ending but he could see the clouds and the sun, just past the door at the end. His feet pounded against the ground echoing in his ears and destroying his sanity. He let out quiet murmurs against Jackson's chest, body starting to flinch repetitively.

Jackson pursed his lips, scooting Michael off his lap. He was perfectly fine with comforting the boy after nightmares, but he was thinking. Mostly, he was wondering just who the boy had been fucking lately and how he could get to him.

Michael curled up against the couch then instead, arms winding around himself and knees pulling higher into his chest.

Jackson rolled his eyes and flicked off the TV, wandering down the hallway in search of Michael's bedroom. He glanced around at the comfortably decorated space; his little whore had been doing well for himself. He began to rifle through drawers, careful to put everything back where he'd found it.

Michael was thankful when the nightmare finally wore off without his body startling awake. He didn't dream any more, his body just remaining still as he slept.

Jackson picked up the cracked phone from it was resting against the wall, unlocking it with a swipe of his finger. The screen was badly broken, and a few of the pixels were dying, but it mostly worked. Unfortunately, Michael's calls were all to and from mysterious numbers, as were his texts. Reading through them, Jackson gleaned the names of several of the boy's so-called friends: Gavin, Geoff, and Ray, as well as a few mentions of a Jack, a Ryan, and a Caleb. He found a knife on top of Michael's dresser, a note set carefully next to it.

Jackson sucked his teeth in annoyance. Clearly whoever had left the note was the one who'd broken his baby boy. He snatched the knife from the dresser, stalking back into the living room and sitting down next to Michael. He traced the tip over the boy's cheekbone, noticing a slight scrape above his eyebrow and narrowed his eyes. Just what had his little whore been up to while he was away?

Michael stuttered awake at the feeling of cold metal touched his face, eyes opening wide when he realized what it was. "What the fuck?" He cried out, kicking his way back to the edge of the couch. That wasn't exactly the best wake up call.

"What's this?" Jackson raised a brow, casting a disapproving look at Michael. He ignored the boy's language for the moment, given that he'd just woken up.

"A knife?" Michael guessed, looking at the blade in confusion.

"Yes, Michael. It's a knife," Jackson give the boy a condescending smile, "Why do you have a knife, hmm? They're dangerous; you know that."

"That's kind of the fucking point?" Michael's voice was raspy enough that it was causing him actual pain. He regretted his earlier fits now, moving a hand up to rub at his neck. "Protection and shit."

Jackson grabbed Michael's chin in flash, holding him tightly enough that his cheeks were smushed together almost painfully, "Watch your pretty, little mouth, Mikey. You need protection, hmm? I'd have thought your new Daddy would provide for you- what's his name? Gavin, Geoff, Ray, Jack, Ryan, Caleb? Or maybe you're fucking all of them, you little whore."

Michael flinched and tried to tear his face out of the man's hand, the name stung harshly and he attempted to shake his head. "'m not." How had he even figured out their names? He automatically wanted to cry, both from fear of the man's eyes and humiliation for how quick he cowered down.

"Oh no? I don't think I'm convinced. You like being touched, don't you, baby boy? Do anything to get someone to take care of you," Jackson mused, not letting go of the boy's chin. He leaned in closer, his face inches away from Michael's own.

Michael let out a whimper, the intensity of the man's gaze was terrifying. "'m n-not." He tried again, his face was starting to hurt and he just wanted the man to let go.

"You're not fucking them? You don't have a new Daddy? Nobody's gonna take care of you the way I do, baby boy, you know that. Nobody's gonna love you the way I do. But you just keep on whoring yourself out because you can't resist, do anything they want. Blow 'em under the table for a cookie and a pat on the head, let them cut up your pretty skin," Jackson shook his head, setting down the knife to trace a finger over the healing cut over Michael's brow.

Michael bit at his bottom lip, the edges of his eyes pricking with tears at the words. He didn't want them to be true, he wasn't a whore.. But Jackson wasn't the only one to tell him and it just made it sting harder. He wanted to think they cared, that Geoff was honest when he said he loved him. But Michael had heard that before, every foster home he'd been at said they loved him; they'd always be there. That didn't stop them from dropping him back off, at the orphanage, back with Jackson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Finally reached some of the most intense plotline we made, what do you guys think of Jackson Reed? Pretty awful dude right? 
> 
> As always, feedback is awesome!


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS PLEASE READ: forced infantilism, forced daddy kink, heavy amounts of non-con, physical abuse, verbal abuse, excessive breakdowns, mentions of pedophilia, there's a lot of bad stuff, sorry if I missed anything.

Jackson sat back, changing back over to a local news station and turning down the volume to a low hum. He let it play as background noise as he thought, idly stroking Michael's back as he planned. A hair cut was his first order of business, but from there it was unclear. It wouldn't take awhile to get the boy back in shape, and without Jackson feeding his addiction, the older man was unsure of how pliant he'd be. He had a couple samples in his van; perhaps they'd be enough to tempt Michael back into taking his medicine. The shaving was another thing, given that Jackson didn't really want to shower with the boy. Perhaps he'd just sit watch; Michael was always so vulnerable when he was naked.

Michael furrowed his brow when the nightmare hit, he was back in the orphanage, hands trembling as he ran through the halls, it seemed never ending but he could see the clouds and the sun, just past the door at the end. His feet pounded against the ground echoing in his ears and destroying his sanity. He let out quiet murmurs against Jackson's chest, body starting to flinch repetitively.

Jackson pursed his lips, scooting Michael off his lap. He was perfectly fine with comforting the boy after nightmares, but he was thinking. Mostly, he was wondering just who the boy had been fucking lately and how he could get to him.

Michael curled up against the couch then instead, arms winding around himself and knees pulling higher into his chest.

Jackson rolled his eyes and flicked off the TV, wandering down the hallway in search of Michael's bedroom. He glanced around at the comfortably decorated space; his little whore had been doing well for himself. He began to rifle through drawers, careful to put everything back where he'd found it.

Michael was thankful when the nightmare finally wore off without his body startling awake. He didn't dream any more, his body just remaining still as he slept.

Jackson picked up the cracked phone from it was resting against the wall, unlocking it with a swipe of his finger. The screen was badly broken, and a few of the pixels were dying, but it mostly worked. Unfortunately, Michael's calls were all to and from mysterious numbers, as were his texts. Reading through them, Jackson gleaned the names of several of the boy's so-called friends: Gavin, Geoff, and Ray, as well as a few mentions of a Jack, a Ryan, and a Caleb. He found a knife on top of Michael's dresser, a note set carefully next to it.

Jackson sucked his teeth in annoyance. Clearly whoever had left the note was the one who'd broken his baby boy. He snatched the knife from the dresser, stalking back into the living room and sitting down next to Michael. He traced the tip over the boy's cheekbone, noticing a slight scrape above his eyebrow and narrowed his eyes. Just what had his little whore been up to while he was away?

Michael stuttered awake at the feeling of cold metal touched his face, eyes opening wide when he realized what it was. "What the fuck?" He cried out, kicking his way back to the edge of the couch. That wasn't exactly the best wake up call.

"What's this?" Jackson raised a brow, casting a disapproving look at Michael. He ignored the boy's language for the moment, given that he'd just woken up.

"A knife?" Michael guessed, looking at the blade in confusion.

"Yes, Michael. It's a knife," Jackson give the boy a condescending smile, "Why do you have a knife, hmm? They're dangerous; you know that."

"That's kind of the fucking point?" Michael's voice was raspy enough that it was causing him actual pain. He regretted his earlier fits now, moving a hand up to rub at his neck. "Protection and shit."

Jackson grabbed Michael's chin in flash, holding him tightly enough that his cheeks were smushed together almost painfully, "Watch your pretty, little mouth, Mikey. You need protection, hmm? I'd have thought your new Daddy would provide for you- what's his name? Gavin, Geoff, Ray, Jack, Ryan, Caleb? Or maybe you're fucking all of them, you little whore."

Michael flinched and tried to tear his face out of the man's hand, the name stung harshly and he attempted to shake his head. "'m not." How had he even figured out their names? He automatically wanted to cry, both from fear of the man's eyes and humiliation for how quick he cowered down.

"Oh no? I don't think I'm convinced. You like being touched, don't you, baby boy? Do anything to get someone to take care of you," Jackson mused, not letting go of the boy's chin. He leaned in closer, his face inches away from Michael's own.

Michael let out a whimper, the intensity of the man's gaze was terrifying. "'m n-not." He tried again, his face was starting to hurt and he just wanted the man to let go.

"You're not fucking them? You don't have a new Daddy? Nobody's gonna take care of you the way I do, baby boy, you know that. Nobody's gonna love you the way I do. But you just keep on whoring yourself out because you can't resist, do anything they want. Blow 'em under the table for a cookie and a pat on the head, let them cut up your pretty skin," Jackson shook his head, setting down the knife to trace a finger over the healing cut over Michael's brow.

Michael bit at his bottom lip, the edges of his eyes pricking with tears at the words. He didn't want them to be true, he wasn't a whore.. But Jackson wasn't the only one to tell him and it just made it sting harder. He wanted to think they cared, that Geoff was honest when he said he loved him. But Michael had heard that before, every foster home he'd been at said they loved him; they'd always be there. That didn't stop them from dropping him back off, at the orphanage, back with Jackson.

"Ssh, ssh, baby boy," Jackson soothed, stroking Michael's cheek with a thumb. "I'm not mad, not really. I'm just looking out for you. They don't love you, not like me. The minute your pretty little mouth stops being useful, you'll be out on your ass. But I love you, baby boy. I'll fix you up good every time."

"I'm sorry." Michael hiccupped, tears starting to flow freely down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry." He needed the man to forgive him, to want him, to love him.

"I know, Mikey, I know you are. You gonna be a good boy for me?" Jackson asked, his grip on the boy's chin slackening. He rubbed Michael's thigh with one hand, soothing him with the rhythmic motion.

"Yes daddy." Michael murmured, hands moving up to try to rub the tears off his cheek. He sniffled a few times, sobs dying down a little due to the soothing motions.

"Good boy," Jackson smiled, leaning in to give him a peck on the cheek. "Now let's get you cleaned up, hmm? I'll find some scissors to cut your hair." He stood up, holding out his hands for Michael to use as leverage. The boy was always touchy after he cried.

"Wait, no. I like my hair." Michael shook his head, he was pretty sure he'd see Geoff eventually, he worked for the man after all and he didn't want him to throw a fit about it.

"It's too long," Jackson stated, no room for argument. "I won't take off much- just a trim." He gave Michael a stern look, twitching his fingers to get the boy to stand.

"Daddy, no. Can we stay here and cuddle? Please?" Michael attempted to plead, hands grasping into Jackson's and trying to tug him back down unto the couch.

"After, baby boy. Come on, I thought you were gonna be good for me," Jackson leaned down, pressing his mouth to Michael's and squeezing the boy's hands.

"I don't want a haircut." Michael mumbled against the man's lips. Stubbornness lacing through him. "I really don't want one."

"Life isn't all about what you want, Michael," Jackson said sternly, pulling the boy up with his hands. It was less the haircut than it was the principal; he was in control.

"You can't make me." Michael muttered, standing up but not making any move to go towards the bathroom. He knew it wasn't necessarily true, he could absolutely make him do it. He was more of just putting up a fight for his own pride.

"Michael Vincent," Jackson admonished, giving the boy a stern glare, "March your ass to the bathroom right now, baby boy." He pointed in the direction of the hallway; his patience was wearing thin.

Michael didn't answer back this time, casting his gaze down but shaking his head defiantly. He wouldn't do this willingly, not when it was something that mattered so much to Geoff.

Jackson sucked his teeth, grabbing hold of Michael's wrist and pulling forcefully enough that to make the boy stumble forward. He would carry the little brat to the bathroom if he had to.

Michael growled at the harsh contact as he stumbled forward. He tried to dig the heels of his feet into the flooring to prevent the man from dragging him. He didn't gain much friction, however and it was easy for the older man to drag him. He full on slipped a few inches from the door of the bathroom, landing clumsily on his side with an 'oof'.

Jackson hauled him to his feet, dragging him into the bathroom and sitting the boy down on the toilet seat. He grabbed a towel from the rack and draped it over Michael's shoulders with a sigh. "Why do you have to make things so hard on me, baby boy? I hate seeing you hurt," he trailed his fingers over the boy's arm, grabbing a pair of scissors from the sink counter where he'd placed them earlier; it was always good to have a plan.

"Please, don't!" Michael cried out, cringing as the painful feel of it. "Please don't cut it, daddy." He could feel the tears starting to fall from his eyes as he pleaded. If he thought he could've gotten past him he would've ran. He sniffled loudly, shaking his head back and forth in a feeble attempt to pretend this wasn't happening.

Jackson raised his eyebrows, steadying Michael's head with a hand and quickly snipping off a curl. "What's wrong, baby boy?" He'd thought Michael had just been being stubborn, but this was an extreme reaction, even for him.

Michael sniffled again, crossing his arms over his chest and watching the tears fall down unto his sweats. "He's gonna be upset and it's all your fault." He mumbled back pitifully.

Jackson snorted, "Who, your new Daddy?" He continued snipping, only taking about an inch off as promised. Michael looked so cute with short curls- younger.

"He's not my daddy." Michael huffed back, watching the hair fall around him. It felt lighter and as much as he hated it, it was nice not to have them obstructing his view.

Jackson worked carefully, making sure that the hair was evenly cut. He took extra care around Michael's ears, so as not to nick them. "Of course not. I'm your only Daddy, hmm? You're just whoring yourself out to him to make rent."

"I'm not. I work for him." Michael informed him, hands moving to rub at his eyes as he shifted slightly. He never had much patience for sitting still.

Jackson finished off Michael's haircut with one last snip of the scissors, setting them to the side and observing his work. He fluffed the boy's hair affectionately; not bad at all. He swept the towel off Michael's shoulders with a flourish, shaking out the hair clipping onto the tile. "There we go, all finished," he murmured, placing a light kiss on the boy's cheek. "Let's get you showered off, hmm?" He ignored the comment about the man being Michael's boss, tucking the information away for later.

Michael stood up, squinting his eyes at his reflection in the mirror. He ran a hand through the poofy curls in the front. He huffed, he didn't necessarily hate it, but he didn't like it. He moved his hand from his hair to scratch at the back of his neck.

Jackson pressed up behind him, running a hand over Michael's shoulder and down his side, tugging at the corner of the boy's shirt. His other hand roamed downwards to grab Michael's ass, squeezing it firmly.

Michael yelped when Jackson groped him, but never the less raised his shirt over his head. His bruised rib was still healing, but the spotty discoloration was visible. His almost healed sliced skin made him look pretty roughed up, even he had to admit that.

Jackson let out a low growl when he saw the marks, turning Michael to face him and taking the boy's chin firmly in hand. "What happened, Mikey?" The older man almost sounded worried, but there was a proprietary undertone to the words, as if someone had defaced his property.

"I got in a fight." Michael shrugged uncaringly. The forceful attitude wasn't shocking anymore and Michael fell easily into the manhandling.

Jackson shook his head, tracing a finger over the cut on Michael's sternum. "My poor baby boy... Let's get you all clean." He gave the boy a slow smile, reaching down to untie Michael's sweat pants. It had been too long; Jackson had missed the easy routine of living with Michael. The boy was such an easy fuck.

Michael's eyes fell to Jackson's hands untying his sweats. His breath hitched in his throat, before he shot his eyes back up. It was weird to be back in this intense level of intimacy, he could remember clearly rarely being left alone when it came to showering or bathing. Something about him being able to drown, though that probably hadn't been too untrue when he was sailing high. He's hardly ever dressed or undressed himself, hardly ever ate without being prompted too.

 

Jackson let Michael's sweatpants drop to the floor, boxers quickly following them. He let out a disapproving sound at the wiry hairs at the base of the boy's cock, winding a few around his index finger and tugging sharply.

"Ow!" Michael yelped, eyebrows furrowing angrily at the man in front of him. He can feel his face flush harshly, whether from the rage or the embarrassment he wasn't sure.

"You need a shave, baby boy," Jackson admonished, momentarily removing his hands from Michael to turn on the shower. Then he was back, trailing his hands over the boy and greedily drinking in the sight of him, naked and flushed and absolutely vulnerable.

Michael didn't want to admit that the touches were getting to him, they sent shivers along his spine and he leaned his head against the older man's shoulder to hide the humiliation.

"You wanna put that pretty, little mouth of yours to good use, hmm?" Jackson asked, running a hand through Michael's freshly cut hair, just long enough to tug on. He let one hand drift down to the boy's ass again, squeezing harshly.

Michael shook his head, because if he was being honest he was still a little sore from Jackson's earlier roughness and he wasn't itching to have to deepthroat the man, plus his throat was already raspy and sore. He jumped at the rough grabbing of his ass.

Jackson sighed, lifting up Michael's chin so that the boy would look at him, this time with gentle fingers. "It's been so long, baby boy... I missed that sweet little ass of yours. You need to thank your Daddy, hmm? Haven't I taken care of you?"

"Yes daddy." Michael mumbled politely, stony expression falling on his face as he dropped to his knees. He slid his hands up the man's thighs, flipping the button on the man's pants before sliding the zipper down as well.

"Good boy," Jackson purred, leaning back against the wall and running a hand through the boy's hair... His pretty, little whore with his pretty, little mouth.

Michael's heart fluttered with the praise, tugging the man's pants down to his thighs. He licked a stripe up the man's bulge in his boxers, wetting the fabric before gently biting at the waistband of his boxers. He tugged them down with his teeth, making sure to blink up at the man as he did so. He released the fabric, licking a stripe up the underside of the man's cock. He brought his hand up, guiding him into his mouth and training his gag reflex back. It was shocking how much he remembered, the memories flowing through his mind of what would happen if he fucked it up.

A smile played around the corners of Jackson's mouth as he watched Michael work him over. His baby boy at least remembered some things. His grip on the boy's hair tightened and he let out a contented hum, thrusting his hips forward shallowly into the wet heat. God, he'd missed that thing Michael could do with his tongue.

Michael braced himself the best he could, eyes pricking at the pain of his already raw throat. He hollowed his cheeks, sucking him down roughly as he brought his hands to grip at the man's thighs. He tilted his head slightly, letting the man continue to thrust. He just wanted it over and done with.

It didn't take long for Jackson to come, and he held Michael close when he did, forcing the boy to swallow him down. The whole thing was entirely irreverent: Michael kneeling, naked on the floor of the bathroom with a few hair clippings dusting his neck and Jackson's cock buried deep in his pretty mouth. It was pleasant, but forgettable; a momentary pleasure. The older man used Michael like a cheap sex toy: well-loved, but uncared for. He pulled the boy to his feet afterwards, telling him what a good little whore he was and pulling Michael into an open-mouthed kiss, pulling away after a moment to complain that he tasted like cum. He walked out of the bathroom then, leaving the boy to enjoy his lukewarm shower in brief peace.

Michael watched the man leave, shutting the door behind him. He didn't dare want to slam it, he was too thankful for the brief moment of peace. He felt immensely dirty and the man's cum made him feel ten times worse. He made sure he turned on the fan.He lifted the toilet seat before jamming two fingers down his throat and puking up most of what was in his throat, body contorting painfully. He flushed the bowl before stepping in the shower and turning it up hotter, and letting it scald the skin as best it could.

Jackson ambled into Michael's kitchen, searching through the pantry and clucking his tongue in disapproval at what he found. He grabbed a trash bag from under the sink, filling it with hostess snack cakes and chips, pulling out anything he deemed too unhealthy from the fridge and freezer as well. He left the ice cream; it always made for a good reward when his baby boy made him happy.

Michael leaned his locked elbows on the wall of the shower, head buried in them as the water cascaded across him. He let himself spit occasionally down the drain, consumed with vast amounts of hatred towards himself and life in general. /even if Geoff loved you before, there's absolutely no way he would love you now. You're worthless./ Michael slammed his foot into the shower wall, fists clenching as the busted knuckles stung under the water.

Jackson tied up the trash bag and tossed it on the porch unceremoniously. He felt a bit guilty for leaving Michael alone, but things weren't as easy now as they'd been when the boy was younger. Jackson fondly remembered the first time he'd explained sex to Michael, and the delicious way the boy had flushed and fidgeted as the older man calmly went over the details. Or the first time Michael sucked him off, when he'd barely known what he was doing but wanted so desperately to please his Daddy... Now the boy was a smart ass who thought the world belonged to him, but that's what happened when kids grew up.

Michael took a deep breath, pushing off from the wall to open the bottle of shampoo and pour some into his hand and then scrub it through his hair. He missed Geoff's fingers against his scalp, he missed the man in general. He glanced at the razor as he scrubbed the suds further into his hair.

Jackson took the knife from the couch and stored it on top of the fridge, hiding it from the shorter boy's sight. Otherwise, the house seemed relatively in order, but he'd explore a bit more later. For now, a nap seemed to be his best option, and he was a tad worn out from avoiding gangsters and confronting Michael.

Michael hissed at the pain in his throat as he tilted his head back to clear the suds from his hair. He huffed before grabbing some more of the shampoo and spreading it at the base of his dick where the hairs were. He took the razor to the hairs as gently as he could, careful not to cut himself. He tossed the razor uncaringly back to where it was, soaping himself up quickly and attempting to scrub himself clean. He turned off the water, stepping out and grabbing a towel. He wrapped it around his waist, before brushing his teeth free of the vomit taste that was prominent in his mouth. He dried off before sliding his clothes back on, moving into his bedroom: he noted his phone was fixed and plugged in. That must've been how he knew their names.

Jackson collapsed onto the couch, moving one of the cushion behind his head and sprawling out. After a moment of thought, he kicked off his pants, content to snuggle into the worn leather in just his boxers and a tshirt. It's not like Michael hadn't seen it all before.

Michael walked slowly to the living room, glancing at the nearly sleeping man on the couch. He took silent steps backwards, shutting his bedroom door and picking up his phone. He punched in the first three numbers of Geoff's cell phone. He just needed to hear him. He erased them, typing in Ray's before erasing that as well and then putting in Ryan's.

Ryan paused his game of Left 4 Dead with a sigh, grabbing his phone from the coffee table before it vibrated off. He raised an eyebrow when he saw Michael's number, but accepted the call; he'd found that his life was supremely uninteresting when he ignored the itch beneath his skin, and he figured he might as well give in. "I thought you weren't supposed to talk to me anymore," Ryan said by way of a greeting.

Michael automatically sighed at the man's voice, leaning his head back against the wardrobe. He didn't want to talk, his voice sounded too bad for him not to have an excuse yet. "Ryan, hey.. I wasn't ever technically told that."

"You sound like hell warned over; what's up?" The way his eyebrow quirked was evident in his voice. He muted the TV, silencing the background music so that he could fully turn his attention to Michael.

 

"Oh, I'm sick." Michael rasped out, adding a cough just so it didn't sound as fake. He couldn't tell him, couldn't deal with that embarrassment. "I just wanted to talk and check up on you it's been a while."

"Mm," Ryan hummed, unconvinced. There was something going on with Michael, but he couldn't place what. "I'm fine. They found that woman's body, and the police haven't turned up at my doorstep. What about you?"

Yeah, they haven't traced me either. Thank Christ." Michael kept glancing up at the door nervously, hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

“You didn't even touch her," Ryan pointed out, "And you didn't answer my question. Should I assume something's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong and someone could've seen us technically..." Michael stuttered out, maybe this hadn't been a good idea. He let his head slam back painfully against the wardrobe. /You're stupid as fuck, Michael./

"I'm going to assume something is wrong..." Ryan furrowed his brow, standing up and walking over to his knife cabinet and unlocking the padlock. "Is it Geoff?"

"Ryan, nothing's wrong. Geoff's fine, he's got food poisoning." Michael growled out, fuck.. This wasn't what he wanted to happen. "Can't I just call you because I miss you?" Michael sighed for added effect, he just needed the man not to come over.

Ryan narrowed his eyes, but sat back down. "Yeah, you can, but given the fact that you're you, I didn't expect it."

"Well, sometimes I've been known to surprise people." Michael moved across the room to sit by the door so he could listen for footsteps. He doubted the man would wake up, but he couldn't be too safe. "So..."

"You miss me?" Ryan chuckled. It was a bit cliche, but it was... Oddly sweet. Still, Michael had made his bed- made it with Geoff, no less- and now he had to lie in it. Ryan wouldn't reject him outright, but he also wouldn't play home wrecker because the younger man couldn't choose.

"Yeah, I do... I really fucking do." /more than you could ever know/ Michael murmured, moving one hand to rub at his face. He felt like crying, or dying, or maybe both.

"Mm," Ryan hummed noncommittally, "Life with Geoff not what you hoped for?" He made sure not to sound bitter, even if he was, a bit. Michael had every right to let that hypocrite drag him around, but Ryan certainly wasn't pleased with it.

The words stung whether or not Ryan meant them to, his emotions were too switched up and he was trying to break the cravings for the drugs. The word whore ran throughout his mind, stinging against his heart. "I-" he started, biting on his knuckle to bite back a sob. He'd cried enough today.

"Michael?" Ryan questioned, worry obvious in his voice. He didn't quite know how to handle the man's meltdowns, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try. "Are you sure nothing's wrong? I could come over... Silence will be taken as a yes." Michael was prideful, but Ryan would let setting so petty get in the way of helping the man.

"Don't come over, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called, I just sort of needed to hear your voice..." Michael managed to get out, forcing himself to end the call. The moment he did, he let his body collapsed onto the floor, painful sobs wracking their way through his chest as he curled into himself as tightly as he could manage, waiting for exhaustion to creep over him.

Ryan furrowed his brow, looking down at the phone in his hand as if it might reveal Michael's secrets if he stared long enough. Why would the younger man need to hear his voice? And he was quite adamant about Ryan not visiting... Something was wrong. Something was very wrong, but the older man didn't know what it was, much less how to fix it. He sighed, unmuting the TV and going back to his game. He'd wait, maybe gather some information, and call Michael back later.

Michael wasn't sure when sleep had taken over, or when the sobs had died down enough for him to actually fall asleep. All he knew was that he was still curled up on the floor, his shoulder aching from the hard flooring. He cringed at the dryness of his mouth, moving a hand to rub gently at his throat as he sat up.

 

_____________

Geoff awoke with his headache dulled, but his stomach still roiling. He stumbled to the bathroom and dry heaved into the toilet bowl, his stomach still devoid of contents. He rubbed his eyes, blearily shuffling down the hallway and into the living room, peering around for any signs of life- preferable life that would make him some fucking coffee.

Gavin sat in one of the barstools, cereal bowl in front of him and a glass of orange juice. He held his phone in one hand, texting, while his other held the spoon. He turned to glance at Geoff as he entered. "You look horrible." He muttered, raising an eyebrow at him. "See, I was right. We should've eaten pizza."

"Fuck off," Geoff mumbled, sliding onto a barstool and letting his head drop onto the counter. "Where's Michael? I need someone fucking useful to make me coffee." His stomach rumbled- the traitor. He'd just throw up anything he the for the next 12 hours.

"He left a note." Gavin mused, pushing away his bowl of cereal and moving to stand up from the barstool, patting Geoff on the back as he did so. "Here, I'll make you some coffee." He slid the note near the man's head, which read in sloppy handwriting 'gone home, i'll be back.' Gavin started to collect the stuff he needed to make the man some of the caffeine.

"Fuuuck," Geoff groaned, letting the coolness of the marble countertop ease his headache, "Fine, I guess you'll have to do. I need some TLC." He managed to grin weakly at Gavin and wiggle his eyebrows, before collapsing once more.

Gavin glanced at him, shooting him a sympathetic smile he couldn't see. He didn't want to voice his concern, didn't want to wonder exactly why Michael hadn't merged back to their apartment. Of course, Geoff probably thought Michael had left only a few hours ago. Gavin wasn't worried that Michael had gotten into any sort of trouble, more along the lines of worried that he went back to see Ryan, definitely not something to mention to Geoff. He pressed the button on the coffee maker before grabbing a paper towel and wetting it, he folded it up and set it on the back of Geoff's neck.

Geoff shivered, letting out a breathy giggle at the sudden wetness, but shot Gavin a grateful look. Food poisoning sucked dicks, but he understood if Michael needed room to breathe or whatever. Maybe he'd pay the younger man a visit when he was feeling better. He wondered if Gav would put a shot of vodka in his coffee for him, but immediately discarded the idea. It would probably just upset his stomach more.

Gavin grabbed out a mug before leaning against the counter and waiting for the coffee to ding. He poured the steaming liquid into the mug and sat it in front of Geoff's face, along with the additional supplies. He could put them in himself if he wanted, Geoff's coffee habits were unpredictable and depended entirely on his mood. "Do you want anything to eat?"

"Nah, I'll just throw it up," Geoff sighed, taking a sip of the steaming liquid and making a face; hot. He took another drink, more carefully, and hummed in appreciation. Black coffee may not have been the best thing for his stomach, but it was beginning to wake him up.

Gavin nodded before moving to sit back in the barstool, swallowing down a spoonful of his slightly soggy cereal. He texted Meg back again, smirking lightly at the message before he set it down.

"So, how was your night?" Geoff asked, flashing Gav a knowing smirk and wiggling his eyebrows. He really did have to meet Meg, given the fact that she was the first person Gavin had actually /dated/ in a long time.

"Top, Geoffrey. It's always top." Gavin smiled, even letting out a slightly embarrassed flush as he stared down at his cereal bowl. "She's absolutely gorgeous, funny too."

 

"Yeah? Gonna bring her home to meet the family?" Geoff grinned. He was happy for Gav, he really was. The man deserved someone like that in his life.

"Maybe, you'd like her." Gavin chuckled back, shrugging his shoulders. "What about you and Michael, how's that going?" Gavin didn't like having the conversation on him, whether or not it was only Geoff.

Geoff's face softened, "God, he's fucking amazing… I'm not even talking about sex, though /Jesus Christ/, he does this thing with his tongue-" The older man cut himself off, he doubted Michael would appreciate him talking about their sex life, even if it was to Gav.

Gavin laughed at that, shaking his head slightly at the way the man's tone changed. He was absolutely head over heels for the man, that much was absolutely clear. "So, are you two a thing now?"

Geoff made a face and shrugged, "I- not exactly. I'm in love with the guy, don't get me wrong, but he's got his own shit to sort out. Our official title is 'fucking around,' which is just a bullshit way of saying he's afraid of commitment. But I get that, so I'll wait."

"Well, I guess that's better than him taking off again, huh?" Gavin mused easily, though his brows were slightly furrowed. Where as fucking around wasn't necessarily a bad deal, he knew they were both too emotionally attached to just fuck around. It would always be more complicated than that.

"Yeah… yeah. God, as long as he doesn't go out and get himself hurt by some fucker like /Ryan/, I can deal. I mean, I don't like the idea of him going off and fucking other people; it makes me want to punch something, but I'll deal. I'll let him deal, however he knows how." Geoff flashed Gavin a wan smile, taking a swig of his coffee like it was something alcoholic. It didn't help.

"I don't think he knows how, that's the problem.." Gavin murmured quietly, grabbing his empty cereal bowl and wormed his way out of the barstool, moving to set it in the sink. Maybe he'd give Ryan a call... but he wasn't exactly itching to hold the conversation. "Hey Ryan, yeah I know we never talk and all but I just need to know if you're killing Michael right now."

"Mm," Geoff sighed, half a murmur of agreement and half just because he was fucking tired. And sick. And couldn't drink because he'd just throw it up anyways. He laid his head back down on the counter, fishing the towel off the back of his shirt and positioning it on his neck once more.

Gavin clapped the man on the back before he wandered off back down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with us this far. We really do appreciate it.
> 
> Reading your comments and seeing you're responses is so incredible. 
> 
> If you have any extra comments/concerns you can go to either Cat's tumblr(http://flashofobsession.tumblr.com/) or mine (http://madcowedgar.tumblr.com/)


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS PLEASE READ: forced infantilism, forced daddy kink, heavy amounts of non-con, physical abuse, verbal abuse, excessive breakdowns, mentions of pedophilia, drug use.

Michael had moved to the living room, switching the tv to low volume so as to not to wake the sleeping man; he watched it aimlessly, dozing off a few times in between shows. He still hurt for the most part, but he put it out of his mind. He could take an advil or something later.

Jackson awoke to the feeling something warm by his legs. He opened his eyes slowly, letting his lips curve into a smile when he saw that it was Michael. "Hey, baby boy," the older man purred, sitting up and wrapping an arm around the boy's shoulders.

Michael smiled brightly up at him, "Hi." He rasped out quietly, curling into the man's embrace. Gavin sat on his bed, staring at his phone and trying to decide whether or not he should actually call the curly haired man.

"Your voice sounds shot to hell," Jackson commented, brushing his fingers over Michael's shortened hair. "Do you have any tea?"

"Hurts too." Michael murmured, leaning his head further into the man's hands. "I think there's some in the cabinet next to the fridge.” Michael's head shot up at the ringing coming from his bedroom.

Jackson kissed the top of the boy's head, standing up. "It's alright, baby. I'll answer it, you just rest up. I'll make you some tea, hmm?" He didn't leave Michael any room to argue, walking quickly down the hall and into the boy's room. He tugged the phone from the charger and swiped a finger across the screen, answering the call with an inquisitive "Hello?"

Michael hoped it was a wrong phone call, counting his breaths as he willed himself to calm down. He moved to stand up, taking hesitant steps towards his room. 

Gavin was taken aback by the voice, the slight tinge of a southern drawl confusing him. He had dialed Michael's number right? "Uhm...Hello?" He furrowed his brow.

"Michael's phone," Jackson chuckled good naturedly. He'd always had a talent for putting people at ease, "Who's this?"

"Uh, Gavin?" Gavin swallowed nervously, almost racing back to the living room and slamming the phone to speaker. 

Michael peeked his head around the door, squinting slightly at the man as he moved forward, holding his hand out for the phone.

Jackson raised an eyebrow at the boy, but didn't hand over the phone. He wanted to talk to the man for a bit. "Ah, you're a friend of Michael's. He's mentioned you, I think."

 

"Stop, hang up, please." Michael mouthed at him, shaking his head frantically as he tried to reach for the phone again. 

"And uh, who are you?" Gavin asked politely enough, furrowing his brow; had Michael gone and got himself kidnapped again?

"Oh, just a friend. Here, he wants to talk to you," he handed the phone over to Michael, letting the boy grab it before wrapping his arms around his shoulders, maneuvering behind Michael so that he could still hear the conversation.

"Hey Gavvers." Michael greeted easily, biting back a sigh at the fact that Jackson wasn't the one talking to Gavin now. He let the older man press against him, not daring to push him away after he'd relented and given him the phone.

"Oh, shit..Michael, you sound awful. Are you okay? Is everything alright?" Gavin spoke hurriedly. 

"I'm fine, just uh, I've got a little bit of a sore throat, nothing bad." Michael spoke while Jackson let his hands roam over Michael, trying to distract him from the phone call. He nipped at the boy's ear and squeezed his ass, hoping for one of Michael's adorable squeaks. He didn't like Michael having "friends." They were a distraction.

"Yeah? You're sure? Who picked up your phone?" Gavin prompted for answers.

Michael bit at his lip at the touches, face flushing heatedly before he could resist it. "A old friend, I met him while walking home; invited him in for beers. I passed out on the couch, which is why he answered." Michael lied as best he could, trying to keep his voice steady.

Jackson chuckled, both at Michael's blush and the excuse. "An old friend? Is that all I am to you," he murmured lowly into the boy's ear, reaching around to palm Michael's crotch. He wondered how contained the boy could stay; if he could have an entire phone conversation while Jackson blew him. He'd really have to test that...

Michael squeaked, hips jutting forward despite himself not wanting them to. He masked it off as a cough quickly, winding an arm around the back of the man's neck.

"Oh, okay. Geoff's starting to feel better I think." Gavin made conversation easily. 

"Yeah? That's good, he looked like shit when I left."

There it was. Jackson continued to massage Michael's dick through his pants, distracting the boy but still playing close attention to the conversation.

Michael grinded up into the man's hand, eyes closing as he leaned back against him. Submission was practically radiating off of him at this point and he could care less as to the man on the other line. 

"Are you planning on coming back tonight?" Gavin questioned, "I think Geoff's missing you." 

Michael wanted to scoff, if Geoff had missed him that much he'd be the one calling. "Uh, I don't know."

Jackson narrowed his eyes; it was "Geoff" that Michael had been seeing, then. Well, at least him;: The boy couldn't keep his dick in his pants. "Don't go, baby boy," Jackson whispered, emphasizing his point by slipping a hand into Michael's pants.

"Probably not." Michael muttered, forcing back his moan as he tugged a hand into the man's hair, fingers tugging as he tried to keep his voice as steady as possible. He winced at Gavin's audible sigh.

"I thought you two got over your issues? You can't keep doing this Michael..." Gavin murmured.

Michael cringed. "I really don't want- don't want to have this conversation right now."

Jackson clucked his tongue, stroking Michael's dick lightly. Honestly, he wanted the British man to continue talking. If the boy wouldn't give Jackson a window into his lovely little, new life, the older man would have to make his own.

Gavin huffed into the phone, "I'm serious, Michael. Stop running away from your problems." 

Michael tried to push Jackson's hand away, he couldn't focus with the touches that were going on. "I'm not." Michael seethed out.

"You are." Gavin informed him.

"I'm /not/."

Jackson rolled his eyes, but took his hand out of the boy's pants, instead snaking a hand under Michael's shirt and brushing his fingers over one of his nipples. He kissed the boy's neck lightly, refusing to let him turn his all of his attention to the phone conversation.

"Fine, Michael. Your life, whatever. Do you want to talk to Geoff?" Gavin sighed into the phone, he didn't want to argue with the man. 

"No, no. That's okay. Let him sleep." Michael answered back quickly, trying to squirm out of the man's grasp now.

Jackson chuckled into Michael's neck, pulling the boy tighter against his chest. There was so much drama in Michael's life, it would have been funny if it didn't interfere with his plans for the boy.

"Alright, I'll talk to you later boi." Gavin mumbled into the phone. 

"Bye." Michael pressed the end call button quickly, setting the phone on the wardrobe and moving to rub the palms of his hands against his eyes.

"You tired, baby boy?" Jackson asked, carding a hand through Michael's hair. "I can make you some tea, hmm? We can do whatever you want..." he trailed off, tweaking the boy's nipple.

Michael leaned back into the touch for a few seconds before turning around and winding his arms around the man's neck, burying his face into his neck and whining pitifully. "I just want my throat to stop hurting." He mused lightly, briefly wondering if Jackson would spike the tea, or if Michael himself would even care if he did.

"Of course, baby," Jackson soothed, slowly separating from the boy and giving him a kiss on the top of the head before walking to the kitchen. He pulled a few teas out of the cabinet, making a face at the flavors. Who the fuck liked cinnamon flavored tea? He grabbed a mug and filled it with water from the tap, sticking it in the microwave to heat.

Michael maneuvered his way into the bed, cuddling up under the blankets and relaxing into the pillows. He wasn't necessarily tired, but it was relaxing and he willed himself not to think about anything.

Jackson took the mug out of the microwave, choosing a lemon-ginger tea bag and dunking it in the hot water; it would be good for the boy's throat. He walked back to the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed and offering Michael the warm mug.

Michael sat up, taking the mug in hand taking a sip, though the spices hadn't stirred in yet. The warm liquid felt nice on his throat. "Thank you." He murmured quietly.

"You're welcome, baby boy," Jackson smiled down at him. He slipped under the covers next to Michael, trailing his fingers over the boy's shoulders, allowing his mouth to twist from a sweet curl of his lips to a wicked grin.

Michael blinked up at him. "You didn't drug it did you?" He took another sip of the warm liquid, hand moving up to rub at his face.

Jackson chuckled, shaking his head and kissing Michael's forehead, "'Course not, Mikey. I could, though. You want some medicine, hmm?" He stroked Michael's hair in a proprietary manner, like the boy was a pet he just kept around so he wouldn't be lonely.

Michael didn't want to admit that his cravings were back and intense, he guessed it was because his mind associated the two together. He took another sip before making a face. Did he? He just wanted the sadness to fizzle out. He kept quiet, staring down at his lap.

Jackson tilted up Michael's chin, pressing a slow kiss to his lips before pulling away, "Let me take care of you, baby. You've been so good for me..." He stroked the man's cheek with a thumb.

Michael blinked up at him with dough eyes, a small smile forming at the corner of his lips. "Okay daddy." He murmured, he didn't want to think about anything else.

"I'll be back in a sec," Jackson murmured, sliding out from under the covers. He retrieved his pants from the living room and pulled them on, not bothering to zip up his fly as he walked out of the house to his van. It was the standard, white vehicle that people warned their children about (Don't take candy from the man inside, kids!), but with the orphanage logo spray painted onto the doors. Jackson opened the passenger's side and shuffled through the glove compartment and grabbing out the plastic bag he kept there in case one of his junkies went into detox; he took care of his kids.

Michael drank the rest of the tea, setting it on the end table and cuddling further into the cushions. He'd been clean of drugs for years, for the most part; there was that one time last fall where someone in the street corner handed him some and he took it, unable to resist the urge when it was open. Geoff would probably be pissed at him for going back. He shivered in anticipation, the negative feelings were gonna go away.

Jackson hefted the bag of drugs appreciatively, admiring the rainbow of pills inside. It was just X, nothing too fancy, no branding or logo pressed into its surface; Jackson wasn't one for marketing. No, he had his loyal customers and his junkies, his kids who distributed for him at raves and seedy frat parties, and that was all he needed. Of course, he'd had his own special cocktail mixed up for Michael when they'd been living together, to keep the boy happy and complacent, but he really hadn't anticipated this, so the pills would have to do. He took out a few of them, stuffing the plastic bag back into his glove compartment and slamming the van door shut once again, locking it firmly. When he returned to the bedroom, he slipped out of his jeans once more, holding out the pills to Michael like they were candy, "Pick a color, baby boy."

Michael observed the colorful pills, taking a breath before he poked around for the green one. He held the pill in his hand a little nervously, shaking his head slightly before setting the pill in his mouth and swallowing it down. He snuggled further into the blankets and waited for it to start to work.

Jackson chuckled, setting the remaining tablets onto the bedside table and scooting under the covers. "How long you been clean?" he asked, stroking the boy's hair with fond expression. His junkies always came back to him, blubbering apologies and telling him how much they needed it. He wished Michael would do that, but apparently the boy was too willful, but Jackson liked that; it was endearing.

"I broke in fall, once. Overall, I've been clean for five years?" Michael murmured, watching the clock next to him and willing the time to go faster. He didn't want to think anymore, he just wanted to experience. He wanted the blurred vision, the euphoric feeling rushing through his body and tingling at his fingers.

"Impressive," Jackson murmured, tracing a finger up and down the boy's arm. He was always so good when he was drugged up; touchy and clingy and willing to do whatever the older man said. "But we've all got our vices, hmm?"

Michael shivered at the contact, skin already forming goosebumps as the drug just barely started to do it's job. "Yeah." He muttered back, hands starting to tap repeatedly against the mattress.

Jackson traced the shell of Michael's ear with a finger, trying not to act as impatient as he felt… But, /God/, did he want to fuck the boy. His pretty, little ass had been calling Jackson's name ever since he stepped through the door of the house.

Michael let out a slight giggle at that, tilting his neck down against his shoulder to rub off the tingly feeling. He licked at his lips slightly, he could practically feel the drugs swirling around inside of him, it'd only been fifteen minutes but he was already starting to feel /something/.

"How you feelin', baby boy?" Jackson chuckled, letting his eyes rake over Michael's form. There was his good, little boy, giggling and happy.

"Good, really good." Michael breathed out, his entire body felt content and at peace, fingertips starting to tingle and eyes starting to blur; just lightly, just at the edges. He felt happy, content to just lie here in this moment, he felt so good.

"Mm," Jackson hummed, leaning forward to mouth at Michael's jaw. He nipped lightly at the skin, shifting himself so that he was on top of the boy, on his hands and knees, his arms bracketing Michael's face as he continued to tease him with his teeth. He moved one knee in between the boy's legs, forcing them apart slightly.

Every touch felt like shocks of electricity racing through him, every kiss sent his body quivering underneath them. He groped at the man's skin greedily, hands sliding across every part of him he could find with his eyes going out of focus like they were. He opened his legs quickly, obeying the man's every wish. His noises were loud and needy, breaking off into nervous giggles occasionally when the man tingled his flesh too long. 

"Ah, daddy..." He moaned out, back arching as he shuffled around on the bed desperately. "Feels so good, thank you for making me feel good."

"You're welcome, baby boy," Jackson purred, pleased with the boy's eagerness, "You gonna thank me, hmm? Be my pretty little whore?" He ground his hips down, enjoying every moan and pleasured sound the man made. His baby boy could be a screamer, when he wanted to.

Michael leant his head back against the pillows, moans falling from his mouth when the man's hips met his own, he was hard in his pants already; the sensitivity of his skin and the tingling touches were too easy to fall into. He felt euphoric and at ease as his hands gripped at the man's hips in an attempt to make Jackson stay pressed up against him. "Anything you want, anything. Ah.."

Jackson's lips curved into a wicked grin, and slid a hand down palm Michael's erection. He pressed his lips against the boy's in an open-mouthed kiss, his tongue slipping into Michael's mouth like it belonged there. After a moment, he pulled away, panting above Michael with lust-blow pupils and a condescending smirk stretched across his mouth, "Got any handcuffs?"

Michael bucked, grinding up against the man's hand and kissing back furiously. Everything felt so good and his body was aching for every touch. He blinked up at him, the words registering a little slower as his jaw tensed involuntarily. "N-no, I don't think I do." He wiggled his hips, desperate for more of the friction.

Jackson shrugged, nonplussed; he was more interested than burying his cock in Michael's ass than anything else. The older man removed his hand from Michael's crotch, instead using it to shuffle through the boy's bedside drawer where he'd seen lube and condoms when he'd previously searched the room. He sat up, grabbing a foil-wrapped packet and small bottle and throwing off the covers. He tugged down Michael's pants and boxers, squeezing some lube onto his fingers, not bothering to warm it up before he thrust in the first digit none too gently.

Michael winced slightly at the intrusion, though it quickly faded to contentment as he tugged his fingers into the man's hair. His body was more than relaxed and willing to do whatever he commanded of him, and he was quick to grind his ass back down on the man's hand. His eyes were hooded, dilated pupils blinking up at the man as he moaned out loudly.

"Mm, talk to me, baby," Jackson purred, noting the boy's smooth, hairless crotch with appreciation; much better. He added in a second finger, scissoring them slowly. He wanted Michael to beg for him… to beg his Daddy to fuck him into the mattress and tell him what a good boy he was. He trailed the index finger of his free hand up the underside of the boy's cock- just a light, trading touch.

"Ah, it's so good daddy. Pl-please, I want more- need you." Michael murmured out, hands tugging tightly into the man's hair as he ran a finger along him. "Pl-please, daddy..I'll be good for you." He bucked his hips again, everywhere he was being touched tingled and the man's hair felt funny along his fingertips. He wondered why he hadn't caved to the drugs sooner, they made everything go away, they made him so much happier.

Jackson could almost feel his dick grow harder at Michael's pleas, and he worked quickly to finish stretching the boy, palming himself through the jeans he hadn't even bothered to take off yet. The older man pulled out his fingers, shoving down his pants and boxers, and ripping open the condom with his teeth. He rolled it on, indulging in a few strokes before turning his attention to the quivering mess of a boy in front of him. "How good will you be, baby boy?" Jackson murmured, crawling forward to nip at the sliver of exposed stomach before him and rubbing the cleft of Michael's ass with his cock.

Michael watched him, groaning when he removed his fingers and trying to buck against them as they retreated. He whined loudly at the feeling of the older man's cock pressing against him. He tried to wiggle his hips down, fingers clawing nearly painfully into the man's neck as his body tensed and untensed a few times. "I'll be perfect for you, please da-daddy." His body was sporting quite the amount of goosebumps, and his vision had blurred even more than before.

Jackson let out a low, pleased growl, lining himself up with Michael's entrance and thrusting in harshly. He took a brief moment to enjoy the tight heat of the boy around him; every whine or moan was music to his ears. He gripped Michael's hips with almost bruising force, pulling out until only the head of his cock was inside Michael… Oh, /fuck/, he'd missed this.

Michael cried out almost excitedly, the pain would probably come later, but for now the drugs warred off any signs of roughness and he only found himself enjoying every sensation, every touch. He slid a hand down to his own cock, moaning loudly at the tingling touch.

Jackson set a harsh pace, panting down hungrily at Michael. The boy was flushed and vocal and so /fucking good/; his pretty, little whore indeed. He pulled out momentarily, flipping Michael onto his stomach so that he was laying with his ass in the air. He was quite a sight: T-shirt riding up his stomach and his pants around his knees like he was getting fucked in a back alley, not a cozy little house.

Michael grinded his teeth at the rough friction of the sheets on his cock, even the sheets were tingling at his skin. He pressed his face into the pillows, frantic moans pouring from his mouth as he gripped a hand into the sheets, his other moving to try to jerk himself off.

Jackson let out a low growl, slapping Michael on the ass instead of grabbing his wrists; he wanted to see if the boy would obey him of his own free will. "Now, now, baby boy… you know the rules. You don't get to come until I do." He emphasized the point by thrusting into Michael once more, grabbing the boy's hips with bruising force.

Michael whined when he felt the man's hand sharp against his ass. He really did try to will himself to move his hand, but the touches felt too good, too tingly. "I-I can't daddy, please. I need it." He stuttered out pleadingly. Maybe he'd take pity on him.

 

Jackson clucked his tongue in disappointment, moving one hand from Michael's hip to grab his wrist and pull the boy's arm behind his back, twisting it at an awkward angle. "I know you do, baby boy. Be patient…" he trailed his fingers over Michael's hips, "And Daddy will take care of you." He didn't move, even though his every muscle was screaming for him to fuck the boy senseless… not yet.

Michael winced at the angle, clenching his fist tightly. He shivered at the touch, the stillness of the situation was torturous and he found himself wiggling slightly in anticipation and desperation. He let out a low moan, biting unto the pillow in frustration. He kept quiet, however; not wanting to upset the man further.

Jackson smiled when Michael didn't argue, whispering a soft "Good boy…" before he let his instincts take over. He released the boy's arm, using his now free hand to stroke Michael's cock as he began to move once more. He rocked in and out of the tight heat at an increasing pace, unable to suppress a small moan as he fucked the boy senseless.

Michael groaned at the praise, letting his arm fall back down and clenching into the sheets. He bucked up against the man's hand, the touches were too much and he was fighting the urge with as much power as he could muster up. The pace was brutal to say the least, and he was positive he couldn't last much longer, but he really didn't want to find out what would happen if he did. Punishments were always the worst, and he was pretty sure he was racking up quite a hefty list of disobedience.

Jackson came with a cry that sounded more triumphant than pleasured, spilling over into the condom he almost wished he hadn't worn… but who knew what kinds of people his pretty whore was fucking these days. He leaned over, grabbing Michael's shoulder with one hand a pulling the boy up so that his back was pressed to the older man’s chest. Jackson continued his harsh ministrations, thumbing the head of Michael’s cock and biting the shell of his ear.

Michael was almost too thankful when the man finally came, hand moving to grip frantically at the man's hair when he was pulled against his chest. It didn't take him long to spill over the edge as well, hips bucking up frantically as the man worked his hand over him. His cry was more of a scream then a moan, hoarse voice growing hoarser at the roughness of his drying mouth. The pleasure blurred his vision more than it had been before, his body tingling and rippling from the aftershocks of the intense orgasm. He slumped forward heavily, body no longer willing to support him.

Jackson chuckled, letting go of Michael's shoulder and letting gravity pull the boy into a face plant in the sheets. He shucked off the condom, tying the end and looking around for Michael's wastebasket. He tossed the plastic in the vessel's general direction, swinging his legs off the edge of the bed and standing, pulling up his boxers. Michael would probably pass out now, tired and well-fucked.

Michael's body still felt sensitive and tingly, and to be honest it was starting to get more uncomfortable than anything. He pressed his fingers into the sheets, he felt like he wanted to be coddled, he still needed to be touched. He turned his head to blink up at the man, eyes trying to say things his mouth felt too dry to try. He felt hungry, and he realized it was probably because he was in fact hungry. It'd been awhile since he'd eaten anything.

Jackson glanced over at Michael, noticing the boy's doe-eyed expression. He leaned down, taking Michael's chin in his hand and kissing him gently. It wasn't chaste; few of Jackson's kisses ever were, and his tongue forced its way into the boy's mouth momentarily before he pulled away. "Thank you, baby boy."

Michael let him press their lips together, even making a pitiful grab for the man's face that turned out to be more of a light tap before his hand fell back to the sheets. "Stay?" He prompted pleadingly, pouting out his bottom lip.

Jackson pressed his lips together in contemplation. On the one hand, he really shouldn't be staying here. Whoever was out for his blood knew that he worked for the orphanage, and his van was right outside, logo and all. But… Oh, he had /plans/ for his baby boy, and he couldn't just abandon Michael before he’d been taught his lesson about running away. He sighed, slipping onto the bed and holding out his arms for the boy.

Michael grinned up at him, moving closer and laying his head against the man's stomach; fingers greedily tiptoeing across his skin. He pressed a kiss to the warm skin, giggling lightly when it tickled his lips. He was close to falling asleep, content with the relaxation of the drugs. Though his eyes were still dancing vividly.

"How you feel, baby?" Jackson asked, smirking down at Michael. Maybe he should just leave him on X, he was much more pleasant this way… He could mix it into the boy's food; God knows he looked like he scarfed it down without so much as thinking about taste.

"Happy." Michael murmured easily, moving to rest his chin against the man's stomach and looking up at him. "And tingly." He let out a quiet giggle, hands poking gently at the man's hips. He used his feet to kick off his own pants, sluggishly moving his hands down to tug his boxers back up.

Jackson traced a finger over Michael's cheek bone idly, letting the boy cuddle into him. "You gonna thank your Daddy, hmm?" the older man asked, raising an eyebrow. Good little boys always said thank you, and Michael had gotten out of the habit.

"Thank you daddy." He murmured lazily, winding a leg across the man's own and kissing gently at his stomach. He tapped his fingertips across the man's rib cage, more entertained by the numbness of his fingers than anything else. Everything felt so nice, so peaceful.

 

"I gotta go, baby boy..." Jackson murmured, glancing at the digital clock on the bedside table. His junkies would be missing him, as would the orphanage staff; it was almost 7.

"No, no no..." Michael shook his head, breath hitching in his throat. He couldn't leave, wouldn't leave him. Surely, not when he was barely starting to reach the end of his high. He gripped his hands tightly across the man's sides, leg latching tighter to the man's thigh. "No, please, don't go."

"I'll leave you some medicine, Mikey. It'll be okay," Jackson soothed, running a hand through the boy's hair. "Daddy's got work to do. And even if your pretty, whore mouth wasn't what got me into trouble, you ran away, baby. I can't just let that go..."

Michael sat up then, still gripping tightly into the man's sides as he stared down at him. "No, no daddy. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. You can hit me if you want, I'll go in time out, anything. Please don't leave." Michael could feel his eyes pricking with tears, he didn't want to be alone.

"I've got kids to take care of, Mikey," Jackson said slowly, as if he was explaining something to a child. "Remember? They may not be my special boy, like you are, but I'm responsible for them." He traced a finger up the boy's arm thoughtfully, "You could always come to work with me, hmm?" He sincerely doubted Michael wanted to; the place was a constant reminder of every foster home that he'd been kicked out of. Jackson might have had a bit to do with that in the boy's teens, but most of the time, he'd fucked up all on his own.

Michael shook his head softly, releasing his grip and sitting back down on his knees. "I don't want to go back." He murmured quietly, he didn't want to have the flashbacks, and he had sobered up enough that he would've experienced them. He knew he was pouting about it, he didn't like not feeling special; it'd happened all the time back at the orphanage and the foster homes', you were always ignored for someone who had more issues than you, or better chances. Normally, he didn't have an issue with it, but the man brought back most of his childhood actions that were so intense when he was younger.

Jackson kissed the top of Michael's head, "Don't worry… I'll come back for you. I won't forget my baby boy." The words were as much as a threat for when the boy sobered as they were a reassurance. The older man began to extricate his legs from Michaels' sitting up slowly.

Michael smiled at that, pressing his lips against the man's harshly, the action was more needy than anything. He pulled back and let the man untangle himself, falling back onto the mattress with a collapse, sprawling his hands up over his head to feel at the pillows. He let out a soft giggle to himself, eyes moving to stare up at the ceiling.

Jackson made sure the pills he'd set on the nightstand were readily available before tugging on his jeans. He walked into the living room and, as an afterthought, took Michael's knife from on top of the fridge and tucked it into the back of his pants, before slipping on his shoes.

 

Michael relaxed his head back against the mattress, fingertips still dancing across the sheets. He licked at his lips, tentatively, shivering at the tingling running along his lips. He tensed his jaw, accidentally biting at his tongue

Ryan gave his phone one last long, hard stare before dialing. This really wasn't any of his business, but Michael had sounded on the verge of tears earlier. He couldn't just sit back and let whatever was wrong with him escalate. He held the phone up to his ear, waiting for the polyphonic rings to be replaced by the younger man's voice.

Michael jumped at the sound of the phone, laying there for a few moments as if expecting the melodic tunes to fade out, he eventually moved to scramble out of the bed. He fell onto the ground clumsily, giggles falling from him as he moved to grab the phone off the wardrobe. He managed to press the answer button, despite his still blurring vision. "Hi!" He greeted, a few giggles following shortly.

"Jesus…" Ryan furrowed his brow, looking down at his phone as if it were possessed. Michael /never/ giggled like that. "Do I have the wrong number?"

"Ryan? No, you don't, haha. I just fell out of my bed." Michael chuckled, moving to collapse back on his bed and run a finger along the colorful pills next to him.

"I- Okay? Why are you giggling?" Ryan didn't think falling out of bed was really something to be so… worked up about. The man sounded like he was high.

"I don't know, cause it was funny." Michael chuckled again, rolling over onto his back and trailing a hand down his chest. He thought briefly of taking another one, that's what Jackson had put them there for right?

Ryan let the comment slide, turning his attention to the real reason he was calling, "Are you feeling any better?"

"What?" Michael furrowed his brow, trying to recall what he was talking about. Was he sad earlier? "I feel happy." He murmured easily, grabbing one of the orange pills and holding it in his hand, the color was bright and vivid.

Ryan furrowed his brow; it was like talking to a five year-old. "You sound like you're fucking high…" He supposed that the younger man could have taken part of Ray's stash, but he really didn't do that often and Ryan hated talking to people who were high almost as much as talking to people who were smashed.

 

"Language, Ryan." Michael giggled out, pressing the pill to his closed lips before sitting up straighter and letting out a surprised gasp. "Which color should I take? I like the orange one, I think."

"Personally, I'm a fan of blue…" Ryan murmured, a bit disturbed by Michael's current state. He stood up from the couch, shoving his feet into a pair of sneakers in preparation to walk out the door. "I'm coming over, Michael, okay? You're at home, right?"

"Well, okay. But you can't stay long." Michael switched the orange one with a light blue one and tossed it back into his mouth. He tapped his fingertips across his thighs, giggling lightly at the goosebumps that arose.

"I'll see you in a few," Ryan muttered, ending the call with his thumb. He unlocked his knife cabinet, taking a moment to consider his options before grabbing a clip-point switchblade and shoving it into his pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go, Ryan's on his way to save the day! As always, we love hearing from you. Thanks for reading<3


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS PLEASE READ: mentions of the following:, forced infantilism, forced daddy kink,mentions of pedophilia,heavy amounts of non-con, physical abuse, verbal abuse, actually in it: excessive breakdowns, drug use.

The drive to Michael's was short, but by the end of it he was beginning to get a bit antsy; the itch was back with a vengeance and he'd already had to restrain himself from seducing a woman at the bar he'd gone to yesterday and dragging her to one of his favorite warehouses for some fun. He knocked on Michael's door, shifting from foot-to-foot uneasily.

Michael practically skipped to the front door when he knocked, only getting distracted by the bouncing lights of the TV for a few moments. He opened the door, not having bothered putting on pants. His second high was hitting harder and he smiled brightly at Ryan.

Ryan let his eyes rake over Michael momentarily, a frown staining his expression. The man was just in his boxers, but that wasn't too unusual given the fact that the older man had actually seen Michael naked on more than one occasion. But there was a bit of dried cum stuck to his stomach, and he looked more loopy than well-fucked… Ryan slipped inside the door, closing it softly behind him before raising an eyebrow at the younger man.

"What?" Michael asked, already moving his hands across the man's arms, fingers tingling against the contact. He just needed to be touched.

"What's up with you?" Ryan asked, and almost immediately regretted the way he phrased the question. This was Michael; he'd tell him everything was fine and yet annoyed at Ryan for even asking.

Michael furrowed his brow, Ryan's words seemed to not leave room for vagueness and he wasn't about to test him. "I took my medicine, Ryan." He nodded in affirmation, almost expecting the man to praise him.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Ryan asked, throwing up his hands in exasperation, knocking Michael's hands away as a result. Once again, the older man was reminded of talking to a child, not that he'd had much experience.

Michael flinched back, eyes quickly lowering as he moved a hand to his wrist. He knew that meant he wasn't supposed to touch anymore, so he kept his hands to himself. "I'm sorry." He murmured quietly.

Ryan sighed, placing a hand on Michael's shoulder, "No… It's fine. You're just- Are you high, Michael?" He stared at the man intently, worry flashing across his face for a moment before being replaced by typical, Ryan-esque neutrality.

Michael shivered at the touch, eyes glancing back at the man before nodding intently. He hesitantly brought a.hand to the man's neck, tapping a finger against it. "Wait." He mused, scampering off in the direction of his room before his eyes flickered to the tv and he stopped. On second thought, he really didn't want to move.

 

Ryan raised an eyebrow at the frozen man, even though he knew Michael couldn't see him. "Why am I waiting exactly?" He asked, trying to jolt the man from his intense fascination with the TV. What was he even on?

Michael looked back at him in what seemed like sudden realization as the man reminded him that he was going to show him the colors. He moved to walk to his room, taking the handful of pills and walking back. He stood in front of him and opened his palm. "Pretty, huh?"

Ryan took one of the pills (purple) out of the man's hand carefully, holding it up to squint at. There was no monicker pressed into the tablet, but the variety of colors gave the older man a hint as to the substance's nature. "Ecstasy?" he guessed, furrowing his brow at Michael. Why was the younger man taking a rave drug?

Michael nodded, moving to set them down on the kitchen counter, he moved back closer to the man, hands greedily trailing across the man's abdomen.

Ryan looked down at Michael, his face devoid of emotion. If the younger man wanted to get into drugs, that was his business, but he didn't like it. They messed with your head, and he'd seen more than one of his dealers' clients get fucked in the ass by addiction. Ryan made no move to touch Michael back, simply staring at him contemplatively, noticing for the first time the shorter length of the curls on the man's head. "Did you cut your hair?"

"No, someone did it for me." He pressed his fingers up higher, his hands almost starting to massage the man's skin as he tried to move even closer. He could feel the sweat forming against the back of his neck.

Ryan rolled his eyes, "That's what I meant." He let out a small sigh… Michael was high as a kite, and Ryan really didn't want to interact with him like this.

Michael let his attention drift back to the tv, even as his hands continued to wander along the man's skin, he let out a little yawn. He hadn't taken a nap yet and though the pills were keeping him excited, he also really just wanted to sleep.

"Michael," Ryan snapped his fingers, trying to bring the man out of his daze, "Are you tired?" He raised an eyebrow. /Do you need a nap, baby boy?/ a small, sarcastic corner of his mind provided, but he decided to keep that to himself. Michael probably wouldn't even realize he was joking about his childlike mannerisms.

Michael nodded briefly, arms moving to wrap around the man's neck. He let his body slump, trusting Ryan to catch him for the most part. Even if he didn't, Michael didn't think he'd mind, the floor looked just as comfortable as anywhere else.

 

Ryan made a face, crouching down to wrap his arms around the man just beneath his ass and lifting, forcing Michael to either wrap his legs around the older man's waist or slip from his grip.

Michael smiled lightly against his neck, wrapping his legs tightly around the man's waist. "I'm being a good whore." He murmured quietly against the man's neck, eyes blinking closed.

Ryan looked down at Michael as best he could given their position, carrying the younger man down the hall towards his room. "You're what? Did Geoff say something again?" He ground his teeth; their boss was such a fucking hypocrite.

"Not Geoff," Michael shook his head against him, honestly he almost didn't want Ryan to put him down, it was so comfortable to just be held. "He doesn't love me, it's okay though, I don't mind so much. The sting goes away when I take the medicine."

Ryan furrowed his brow- not Geoff? He decided to focus on that rather than the drugs; the younger man probably wouldn't be very receptive to a lecture on "Just say no" in his current state. "Who called you a whore, Michael?" the older man prompted, opening the door to the bedroom a little wider with his shoulder.

"Daddy did." He murmured lazily, running his fingertips across the man's hair. "You have soft hair." He yawned against the man's neck again.

Ryan walked over to the bed, setting down Michael gently. "Your… father?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow. He thought he recalled something about the younger man being raised in foster care, but wasn't quite sure. Besides, just because the system was royally fucked didn't mean some kids didn't think of their fosters as their parents.

Michael slumped sluggishly in bed, holding his arms out for the man. He wanted to be held, and since Jackson wasn't here. "No, daddy. Jackson."

Ryan's eyes widened in comprehension; hadn't Michael said something about an ex with a daddy kink? He sunk onto the bed beside the younger man, willing to let Michael hang on him while he was drugged up, but nothing more. He'd generally avoided having sex with his partners when they were drunk, and somehow being high on X seemed much worse. "You're not a whore, Michael," he reassured the man, rubbing his back with one, large hand.

Michael cuddled up to him when he sat down, tingling fingers clinging to the man's shirt as if he'd leave him any moment. He sat up,, eyes almost growing defensive. "I am, I whore myself out for a pat on the head and a cookie. It's what I'm good at." He laid back down, eyes softening as he nuzzled into the man's shirt.

 

Ryan pursed his lips, confused. The man had been so upset when Geoff had called him whorish, but now he was defending the title? "If I recall correctly, I never gave you any cookies," he said softly, not wanting to upset Michael any further. "You're a consenting adult, Michael, there's nothing wrong with liking sex."

"You're gonna get me in trouble." He muttered, shaking his head and closing his eyes sleepily. He tapped his fingers against the man's skin obsessively.

"Who am I going to get you in trouble with?" Ryan asked, feeling a twinge of guilt at taking advantage of the man's drugged state; sober Michael would never tell him these things. He wrapped his arms around the man, shifting him to the side and kicking off his shoes to slide onto the bed himself. He almost laid back, before noticing the cum on the sheets and making a face; unsanitary.

"Daddy, I'm not supposed to have people over, supposed to wait for him." He yawned loudly, shaking his head to try to fight the sleep. "I've been good for him, but this isn't very good.".

Ryan sighed, casting the man a worried look. He wasn't sure if Michael's ex really had visited, or if the man had just hallucinated the incident, though the former would certainly explain the soiled sheets. Ryan was especially glad that he'd brought a knife, in case Michael's "Daddy" did show up. The man sounded unpleasant, to say the least. "Just… go to sleep, Michael. Or- do you want to get cleaned up first?"

"Can't move," Michael muttered out, he did feel sort of sticky but not enough to make the effort to get out of bed. He yawned shakily, mouth almost biting at Ryan's skin.

Cat Astrophe: Ryan chuckled, extricating himself from Michael's grasp and walking to the bathroom. There was a condom on the floor next to the man's waste basket, but, honestly, he really didn't want to touch that. Instead, he wet down a hand towel, walking back to the bedroom and rubbing it lightly across Michael's stomach. Once he'd finished cleaning the man, he laid down the towel over the soiled spot on the sheets- he doubted Michael would move so he could change them- and sat back down on the bed.

Michael was fully asleep by the time he finished washing his stomach, eyes closed tightly and jaw clenched. He subconsciously curled in closer to the body, hands curling tightly in the man's shirt.

Ryan stroked Michael's short hair worriedly, resolving to have an /actual/ conversation with the man once he woke up. Ryan himself wasn't tired, but he let the confines of sleep pull him in with nothing more meaningful to do as he waited for the drugs to pass through Michael’s body.

Michael woke up suddenly, body jolting out of a nightmare. He pushed away from the man next to him, assuming it was Jackson before he even saw him. His head hurt and his body felt exhausted, not to mention his ass hurt and so did the bruises on his hips. He swallowed, noting the fact that no his throat did not feel entirely better.

Ryan's brain slammed back to full consciousness when Michael pushed him, and his eyes popped open. The older man immediately realized when he realized where he was and who had pushed him, rolling over and making a face at the younger man. "Hey, pac-man. You sober yet?"

Michael clutched at his head, palms digging painfully into his eye sockets. He groaned when he realized Ryan's voice, the hazy recollections of what happened coming to him. "Unfortunately." He mumbled, now he remembered why he stopped, the crashes were horrendous.

"Good, you can help me change the sheets," Ryan grimaced, rolling away from the towel he'd been partially lying on. Seriously, that was just fucking gross. He raised an eyebrow at Michael, motioning for him to help as the older man peeled back a corner. He didn't confront the issue directly, hoping to catch the auburn haired man off guard.

Michael only slid off the bed, moving to sit down against it. He felt like he was going to vomit, or something. He felt used and confused, and all kinds of fucked up. He brought his knees closer to his chest and sat his head in between them. He gripped at his hair, fingers abusing the shorter strands. /you fucking whore, you spineless little asshole, sure daddy let me take those colorful pills because obviously you have no fucking willpower./

Ryan sighed, quickly stripping down the sheets and moving to sit next to Michael. "Look, it's none of my business if you do rave drugs in your free time, but for the the record, I'm against it. Addiction will get you all kinds of fucked up." He put a hand on the man's shoulder, smiling in a way that he hoped was reassuring, but mostly felt flat.

Michael immediately wanted to punch the man, wanted to slam his head so far into that fucking wall. Especially when Michael felt frustrated tears start to.form. He didn't dare glance up at him, didn't dare do anything but tense at the contact. /you fucker, look how disappointed you made him, even if no one will love you he was the only one who actually worried, now you've just gone and made him disappointed./

Ryan let the fake smile fall off his face, a sincerely worried look replacing it. "Michael… seriously, what the fuck happened? You said some stuff when you were high, but most of it was nonsense."

"You have to go." Michael muttered, lifting his head but not making eye contact. He slid a hand to rub nervously at the back of his neck.

"What, am I going to get you in trouble with- what was his name? Jackson?" Ryan raised a brow, looking supremely unimpressed. The man had called Michael a whore, and that was enough reason for him to dislike him. Also, anyone who didn't let their… ex-boyfriend? Fuck buddy? let other people into the house wasn't someone he wanted to play golf with, so to speak, given that he didn't actually play golf.

Michael flinched, what all had he told Ryan? Part of him wanted to cry and sob and just get Ryan to take him away, but he was well aware that Jackson would come home soon, maybe, and he was already well broken, drugs or no drugs. He was the only person in Michael's life who loved him, and he wasn't about to abandon that. "Why the fuck do you even care? Go home."

Ryan's eyebrows shot up at the moodiness; the man was a lot more happy when he was drugged up, even if he talked like a five year-old. "Well, excuse me. I didn't realize that I wasn't allowed to be concerned for your well being." It was a snarky thing to say, and he knew it, but Michael was an irrational person and it annoyed the older man to no end.

Michael shot him an annoyed face, his head was still hurting and Ryan wasn't helping him to feel better. He rested his head back between his knees, tugging his fingers back into his curls, yanking harshly at the strands just to ground him.

Ryan sighed, placing a hand tentatively on Michael's shoulder, "Look, my point is, I'm not leaving until you tell me what the hell is going on with you."

Michael shook his head, like hell he was going to tell Ryan anything, it took enough work to tell Geoff anything and that was when the man hadn't shown up suddenly on his door step. Michael stood up, using Ryan's shoulder to grab onto for support. Everything hurt, but he wanted something to drink. He was hungry as well, but he didn't dare think about food. "Whatever."

Ryan shrugged, standing up with him. "Your choice." He glanced at the clock habitually, noticing that it was almost 9 o'clock. His stomach let out a small noise of complaint; Ryan usually ate at 7 or 8, but in his worried state, he'd forgotten. "Mind if I make some dinner?"

"I don't care." Michael grumbled, attempting to walk towards the door of his room, everything hurt and he immediately wanted to kill over. He hated himself and he hated the way he was longing for Jackson's comfort.

Ryan nodded, slipping past Michael and walking into the living room and to the kitchen. He opened the pantry, idly browsing the shelves for something he deemed edible, before furrowing his brow. The pantry was almost empty, devoid of the chips and snack cakes that had lined the shelves on his last visit, leaving only a half eaten bag of granola, a few boxes of differently shaped pastas, and some ramen. "Where'd all your food go?"

"Don't know." Michael murmured, grabbing out a bottle of water from the fridge, his sodas were gone as well, not surprising. He wasn't shocked to say the least that most of his food was gone. It was less temptation anyway. He leaned against the counter, fingers fiddling with the pills as he downed a good portion of the water. It only served to make his stomach feel more empty.

"The fuck does that mean?" Ryan turned around, making a face when he noticed Michael eyeing the tablets of ecstasy on the counter. He walked over, placing a hand on the younger man's and giving him a small shake of his head.

"It means I don't fu- don't know." He corrected himself mid sentence habitually, yanking his hand out from under the man's quickly.

Ryan grabbed the pills from the counter, stuffing them into the pocket of his jeans, next to his knife. He let his fingers trail over the switchblade momentarily, before withdrawing his hand. He raised an eyebrow at Michael, "And that's another thing… you aren't cursing." He was reminded of the man's 'Language' comment from before.

"So what?" Michael seethed out, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He didn't like the interrogation he was getting one bit, it made him feel antsy and agitated.

Ryan shook his head, turning away and grabbing a package of ramen from the pantry. He searched around momentarily for a pot, grabbing one from a lower cabinet and filling it with water from the sink. He almost preferred Michael high to this moody, stubborn man, but that wasn't Michael. Michael didn't giggle and cling to you like a child, he cursed and beat your ass at video games and was a goddamn person. He set the pot of water to boil, letting out a small sigh.

Michael moved to glance out the window, hand holding open the curtain as he searched for a white van. He had to come back eventually, right? A worried part of him wondered briefly if he'd ever come home. He sighed, moving back from the window and glancing over at Ryan. "Why are you here?"

"I mentioned the whole 'caring about your wellbeing' thing, right?" Ryan raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms casually.

Michael scoffed, he'd heard that line in just about every foster home. Ryan was no different, he'd keep Michael around until he got bored; Michael knew he was only good in small doses. "Well, I'm fine. So you can quit the whole "I care" act."

Ryan rubbed his face with a hand, sighing. "Why are you so adamant in thinking that people don't care about you? It's kind of insulting, honestly. Why the fuck would I /pretend/ to like you?"

Michael huffed, moving to sit down in one of his small kitchen chairs. He wanted to believe Ryan, wanted to believe that he was telling the truth and he really did like him. Though there was that ever-present dark cloud telling him that he was impossible to deal with most of the time. He was never well behaved enough. "People don't care about me, Ryan, it's not something that happens."

 

"Even if we go with the completely inaccurate theory that I don't care about you, I'm pretty sure Geoff does given the fact that he burst into my apartment to 'save' you from me," Ryan said gently. "Same goes for Gavin- and Ray. He's your best friend, isn't he?" He wasn't very good at reassurance, but pure logic was something he figured everybody could work with.

Michael felt more than confused, Jackson's words finding their way through his mind; no one could love him like he could, it was true. He knew that, he had to know that.. He just wanted to forget everything, just needed to get another high; that would make the feelings go away, right? He nodded gently, mainly just to get the man to think he agreed. He stood up, walking forward to the man and grabbing gently at his hands. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" Ryan asked, squeezing Michael's hands gently. The younger man was always so quick to blame himself and it made his stomach clench with unease. Michael may not have been a good person- none of them were, really- but he was one of the better ones.

"Aren't you angry at me?" Michael mused carefully, "I-I can be better..." He was half prepared to drop to his knees if the man wanted him to, he was torn between reality and thoughts and he didn't know the difference between the two at all. He wanted the pretty pills in the man's pocket, but he knew he had to behave for those.

"No, Jesus Christ, Michael. I'm not mad at you," Ryan said, squeezing the man's hands tightly. "Okay, annoyed, maybe," he added as an afterthought, "But not at you." No, he was pissed at whoever had gotten Michael thinking this way.

Michael furrowed his eyebrows, moving his hands to touch timidly against the man's stomach. "Thank you for taking care of me..." He mumbled quietly, fiddling with the waistband of his pants, fingertips making their way to his pocket.

Ryan furrowed his brow, tilting his head to the side in a way that was almost bird-like, "What do you mean?" 'Taking care of him', is that what making ramen and refusing to leave was?

"You wiped off my stomach, and made sure I slept." Michael mused lightly, pressing a kiss against his collar bone and continuing to poke at his pocket. He wouldn't dare take one without permission, of course, not when Ryan had been so sweet to him. "Can I have one?"

Ryan sighed, rubbing his face with a hand as Michael continued to grope around his pocket. "Look, I'm not going to stop you, but I'd really prefer you were sober." Who the hell was this? The man he knew thanked people gingerly and grabbed at what he wanted until someone grabbed his hands and they ended up wrestling. It was part of his charm.

Michael sighed, letting his hand fall down by his side; away from the pocket. Now he wasn't sure what the man wanted at all, Jackson would've told him to get down and suck for it. Surely that was what Ryan wanted as well, right? They were too different and it was making his head hurt. "He's going to hate me when he gets home." He murmured quietly, mostly to himself as he continued to sort out his thoughts.

Ryan looked down at Michael worriedly. Who the hell was this /Jackson/ that he could change the younger man this way. "Michael, I don't mean to pry, but I don’t think this guy is good for you- at least from what I’ve seen…” He trailed off, unsure of how to continue.

Michael looked up at him, frowning defensively as he started to shake his head. "No, no, he is. He takes care of me and he makes sure I feel good." He nodded, as if agreeing with himself. "He loves me."

"He called you a whore," Ryan pointed out, "And he threw out your food, and gave you drugs. That… really doesn't sound like love to me." Then again, what the hell did he know about love? God knows his parents didn't love each other, and the only thing he'd experienced that level of affection for was the people he murdered.

Michael gritted his teeth, pushing away from the man and shaking his head back and forth. He really wished Ryan wasn't pointing these things out. "But I'm his whore, Ryan, he loves me, he does." He took a few steps back, gnawing on his bottom lip.

"You aren't a whore, Michael… Jesus. Does he pay you to have sex with him? That's the only way I could think of that you'd legitimately be able to call yourself a prostitute." The older man crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows, daring Michael to bring up a good counterpoint.

"Go home." Michael hissed out, eyes already starting to form tears as he took note of the man's posture. "Please go home and leave me alone. You don't understand."

"Explain it to me," Ryan almost snapped, moving to dump the block of ramen into the now boiling water.

"Please, he's gonna come back from the orphanage and I'm going to be in so much trouble. Please just leave." Michael continued to beg, wiping away the tears that were falling along his cheeks. He took a few steps back, taking note of the couch and moving to clamber onto it.

"Michael…" Ryan breathed, cocking his head to the side to stare worriedly at the man, "Just what are you so fucking terrified of?"

"He's already mad at me, I've been whoring myself out to other people and he doesn't like it." Michael muttered out, curling up on the couch and wiping his tears away with his arm.

There was that word again… Ryan shook his head. "Who you have sex with is none of his business," the older man said, moving to sit next to Michael on the couch and giving his thigh a tentative pat. If Jackson was hurting the man… Ryan was suddenly very aware of the knife in his pocket, and very glad of it.

"B-but, he took care of me since I was little. I owe him." Michael flinched at the contact, but moved to sit on the man's lap. Whether or not Ryan meant it as a command, Michael took it that way and he was nothing if not submissive. "I owe him a lot."

Ryan blinked in surprise when his lap was suddenly very full of Michael, but didn't push the younger man away. He stroked Michael's hair gently, carding his fingers through the short locks. "You don't owe him jack shit if he's hurting you..."

"He's not hurting me... not really." Michael used his feet to move himself closer to Ryan, kicking at the man's thighs almost as he wound his arms around the man's neck and burrowed his head into the man's neck. "I just want everyone to stop being mad at me."

"Did I mention I'm not mad at you?' Ryan murmured, his arms automatically wrapping around the younger man. He tucked the "not really" comment away in his mind to ask about later, or at least to use as ammo when if Jackson arrived.

"Gavin is, he wanted me to go to Geoff's tonight." Michael murmured, hands clutching at the man's hair and shifting slightly, as if he was still trying to get closer. He subconsciously made himself as small as possible, curling his body up tight against the older man's.

Ryan doubted that Gavin was really mad, but refrained from saying so. Instead he simply stroked Michael's back soothingly, whispering platitudes into the man's ear. "It's okay, Michael. He doesn't hate you; it's gonna be fine."

"No, no. Nothing's okay, I hate myself, I hate this." Michael condemned himself for being so weak, but let his tears fall unto the man's shirt either way. The touches were comforting, soothing him almost to sleep; again, a habitual position of afternoon naps on the couch with Jackson.

"What do you want, Michael?" Ryan asked rubbing the man's shoulder lightly. He had no idea what he was doing; comforting people really wasn't his strong suit.

Michael sniffled, shaking his head against the man's neck. "I want the pain to go away." He murmured, knowing fully well Ryan couldn't do anything to help that. "I want everything to go away."

"I'm sorry," Ryan murmured, but there wasn't any pity in his tone. He didn't like that Michael felt hurt, or wronged, or whatever, but he knew that feeling. It was as inevitable as the itch beneath his skin, and you just had to breath, to hang on until you got through it. Until you didn't want to kill yourself, or somebody else, or both. He didn't even know what he was sorry for… perhaps for not knowing how to help.

Michael flinched when his phone rang, not making any move to get up to grab it as he let his body slump against the man's. He slid his fingertips across the man's neck, another sniffle falling from him.

"Michael… My ramen's going to get overcooked," Ryan pressed a quick kiss into the man's hair, "And you should probably get that. Maybe it's Gavin, right?" He shifted slightly, trying to get the younger man to move so that he could stand up.

Michael glanced at him, moving off of the man's lap but making no move to go get the ringing phone, instead following Ryan to the kitchen closely. He wiped the back of his arm on his face, drying off his tears even though a few of them were still sliding across his cheeks.

Ryan flicked off the burner, shuffling around in the cabinets for a strainer and placing the one he found in the sink before adding the little packet of fake flavoring to the pot. He maneuvered steaming water and noodles over to the sink, pouring them carefully into the strainer and rinsing them with cold water. He got out two bowls and forks, carefully splitting the ramen into two, equal portions and offering one to a teary-eyed Michael. Ramen may not have been comfort food, but it was something.

Michael shook his head, despite his body wanting nothing more than to eat the delicious food. He walked instead to his room, grabbing up the phone to check who had called. Noting Ray's number, he sighed, walking back to the kitchen.

Ryan pressed his lips into a thin line, setting the bowl of noodles on the counter in case the man changed his mind, and sat down at the dining room table. He twirled ramen around his fork and took a bite, looking up from his meal when Michael entered. He swallowed, "Who was it?"

Michael sat down across from him and set the phone on the table, staring down at it. "Ray." He muttered, trying to decide if he should call the man back. Ray was the one that knew the most about Jackson and he wasn't so sure he wanted to tell him he was here.

Ryan nodded, looking expectantly at Michael. The younger man had some issues to work out, and his best friend seemed like the ideal person to talk to. He took another bite of ramen.

Michael twirled his phone across the table, resting his elbows on the table and running a hand through his hair.

"You gonna call him back?" Ryan asked, flicking his gaze briefly to the window. It was dark outside, but cars still moved sluggishly along the suburban road outside. None of them pulled into Michael's drive, put Ryan kept one eye on the window as he ate.

 

"I guess I should, God knows he'll call again if I don't." Michael grumbled, but made no move to actually call him.

Ryan nodded, taking another bite of noodles. He twirled a few strands around his fork, holding it out to Michael. He'd actually heard the man's stomach rumble a couple times, and he was a bit concerned.

Michael grimaced, shaking his head again, trying to remember what Jackson had said. He'd gone without eating before, this was nothing. Like he'd predicted his phone rang again, he stared at the buzzing melodic tune, leaning back in his chair.

Ryan gave Michael a look that was half worried and half exasperated, shoving the fork into his mouth and chewing. The man seemed inert, too scared to do anything- pick up the phone, eat, talk to him- but at the same time, he wasn't grabbing his pretty, primal knife and forcing Ryan to leave or calling the mysterious 'Jackson.'

Michael picked up the phone, mumbling a quick 'hey'. Ray let out a relieved sigh. "Michael, hey. How are you?" Michael rubbed at his head, kicking a socked foot up on Ryan's thigh. "I'm fine." He answered easily, timidly almost.

Ryan shot a glare at him, which almost immediately turned into a small smirk. He was glad that Michael was at least somewhat getting back to normal, and not telling him that he'd "be good" for a tablet of ecstasy. He didn't necessarily object to the man wanting to play house with someone, but Ryan wasn't quite comfortable with it given that his "Daddy" was an abusive fuck.

"Yeah? Cause your voice sounds horrible... " Ray muttered, though it could've just been a sore throat or something. "Sick." Michael groaned back, tapping his foot against Ryan's thigh. "Yeah?" Ray questioned.

Ryan couldn't suppress a soft scoff at that, silencing himself by finishing off his noodles. Michael sounded like he'd a) been screaming his lungs out, or b) had someone's cock halfway down his throat… possibly both.

"Why'd you call?" Michael shot back, resting his arms back on the table and laying his head on top of them. "I always call when you're not at someone's house, Michael.. Is something wrong?" Ray answered back, and Michael could almost see his worry. "Nothing's wrong.."

"You feeding Ray the same bullshit you fed me?" Ryan asked rather loudly, raising an eyebrow. He pushed his empty bowl away from him, not bothering to stand up. Besides, he was enjoying the feeling of the man's foot resting on his thigh, as casual as the contact was.

 

"Who was that?" Ray asked. Michael glared back at Ryan, pressing his foot over to the left to rest it on the man's crotch. "Ryan." He murmured out. "Wait, why? Don't you like his house better? With the silk sheets?" Ray questioned.

Ryan listened carefully, catching the last remark and chuckling. It was his guilty pleasure- other than kidnapping and torturing people, that is; he didn't usually get much rest, so he figured it was best to make what little he did get worth it. He didn't dare speak again, though, afraid that Michael might kick him.

"Yeah." Michael agreed, he really did enjoy the silk sheets and he was thankful the man didn't jump to condemning him.

"So, something's wrong." Ray analyzed, "I'll just call Ryan if you don't tell me." Michael groaned at that, biting his lip and standing up, moving to sit in Ryan's lap and give him the phone. He didn't want to hear Ray's response to it. He burrowed his face in the man's neck, taking a deep breath.

Ryan rubbed the man's shoulder soothingly, taking the phone and holding it up to his ear. "Hey, Ray," he murmured, unsure of exactly where to start, especially since Michael was right here, listening in.

"Ryan, what's up? Did he have a flashback?" Ray questioned quickly, already grabbing his shoes. Michael grabbed gently at the man's hand, kissing at his neck lightly.

"Uh, no," Ryan furrowed his brow. What would Michael be having a flashback /of/? "He called me a few hours ago, sounded like something was wrong but didn't tell me what. I called back around 7 and he sounded even weirder, so I drove over. Turns out someone- his ex, I gather- gave him some pretty pills to pop and now he won't eat or tell me what's wrong." Ryan gave Michael an apologetic look, smoothing the man's hair and letting him kiss at the older man's neck.

"Wait, Jackson?" Ray didn't want to jump to conclusions but he started to put on his shoes faster. He grabbed a few guns as he ran out of the house, just in case. Michael pressed closer into the older man, slumping further on top of him. "Shit, fuck... Is he coming back?"

Ryan raised a brow at Ray's nerve; just how bad was this guy? "It would seem so, given that Michael has told me multiple times to leave or I'd get him in trouble..." Ryan wasn't too worried about that; he could generally handle himself.

"Fuckin' hell. Alright, uh, short story is the asshole is fuckin' crazy. He's known him his whole life, the guy runs the orphanage. When Michael was old enough to be kicked out of it, guy took him in and made Michael pay him off with sex. I'm not going over details on the phone, but it was really fucking bad. I'm on my way, you might want to consider taking him back to your house or something." Ray mumbled, already jumping in his car and nearly racing down the street.

 

Ryan's eyes widened and ended the call with a "Will do." He handed the phone back to Michael, half understanding the "whore" comments now. "Ray says we should go, if you're okay with that."

"I'm supposed to stay here." Michael murmured weakly, holding unto the phone. He slid off the man's lap, standing awkwardly and staring at his feet. "But..okay."

Ryan pressed his lips together in a thin line, standing up. He quickly retrieved his shoes from Michael's bedroom, shoving them onto his feet and glancing around. There were no obvious signs of his presence, besides the bowl of ramen on the table and the second on the counter, and theoretically Michael could have made those himself. He walked back to the living room, considering waiting for Ray to arrive so that he could understand exactly what the fuck was going   
on.

Michael stared at him for a few moments, he could feel his hands starting to shake. He couldn't leave, could he? What if Jackson came.back? He jumped at the sound of knocking, immediately moving to stand behind Ryan and clutch at the man's shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated! <3


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS PLEASE READ: mentions of the following:, forced infantilism, forced daddy kink,mentions of pedophilia,heavy amounts of non-con, physical abuse, verbal abuse, actually in it: excessive breakdowns, drug use.

Ray had literally driven way over the speed limit to get there, taking a few shortcuts. The drive was already a short seven minutes from Michael's house, and his rush to get there just made it faster.

Ryan reached into his pocket, fumbling around the pills and grabbing the handle of his switchblade. He walked over to the door, opening it slowly, his grip on the knife relaxing when he realized it was only Ray. He motioned for the man to come inside, closing the door behind him.

Ray walked inside quickly, ending up with his arms full of Michael very quickly as the man latched unto him. "He's back, he's back." Michael managed to stutter, hands clawing at Ray's skin needily. "I know, it's okay, I've got you." Ray looked over his shoulder back at Ryan, running a gentle hand across the man's back. "He needs clothes..." He muttered, taking in the look of the man and sighing, he looked entirely drained.

The older man nodded, almost embarrassed at just how fast Michael confided in Ray. Then again, Ray was his best friend and Ryan was… Ryan; he shouldn't expect to be able to reassure the auburn haired man. He walked to Michael's room, shuffling through his dresser drawers and picking out a pair of sweatpants, a T-shirt, and a fresh pair of boxers as an afterthought, and brought them back into the living room.

Ray glanced up at him, nodding his thanks as Michael started shaking more against him. "Uhm, he's gonna try to run back in the moment we take him outside so you're going to have to carry him." Ray explained, knowing fully well that Michael wasn't listening, just sobbing hysterical partial sentences into his ear.

Ryan nodded, awkwardly holding the messy stack of clothes, unsure of who to hand them to. How did Ray know all this? "Sure, that's fine..."

Ray managed to unhook Michael from his arms, taking the clothes from Ryan before gently shoving Michael in his direction, who adapted quickly; winding arms instead around the older man. "Fuckin' years of working on his coping, all gone to shit. Perfect." Ray muttered, "We'll take him in your car, mines a recent steal. If he comes back, he won't know it's mine.

Ryan looked down at the man clinging to his waist worriedly, placing a hand on Michael's back and rubbing awkwardly. Caretaking wasn't one of his strong suits, and he cursed that it seemed to come instinctively to most people. "That's fine. We can take him to my place; I'm not registered under Ryan Wolfe there, so even if he does find out my name, he won't be able to find where I live." Not to mention he had plenty of knives to slice the bastard open with.

"Sounds good." Ray nodded, opening the door and peering out nervously, sighing in relief at the fact that there wasn't a guy there waiting for them. "We'll get him to change clothes when he gets to your house.." He eyed the two, and in any other situation he probably would've laughed. He'd parked his car down the street, making sure it didn't look associated with Michael’s house at all.

 

Ryan smiled ruefully down at the younger man, whose face was buried in his chest. "How you wanna do this, Michael?" He didn't just want to scoop the man up without warning, and even that would be hard to do with the way he was clinging to the older man.

Michael moved his arms around the man's neck, lifting his body up against him and beginning to wrap his legs around the man's waist; similar to their earlier position. He nuzzled his face into the man's neck, shaking hands moving to wind their way into his hair as he was supported. Ray tapped his foot impatiently, nodding his head in a 'hurry up' gesture. If it wasn't for Michael, he would've made sure he and Ryan stayed, made sure the asshole got what he deserved. He'd probably even watch Ryan torture him. But, Michael wouldn't be able to handle it; it would only serve to wreck him more and Ray's main concern right now was Michael.

Ryan supported Michael's ass with one arm, the other curling around the man's back so that he'd stay in position. He nodded to Ray, jerking his head for the younger man to open the door for him. He wasn't going to let his guard down until they were at his house, that was for sure.

Ray opened the door, making sure to walk out first, placing a hand on his submachine gun that was resting in his pants; better safe than sorry. He waited for them to walk out before shutting the door; keeping his eyes darting through the scenery. Michael lifted his face from the man's neck, eyebrows furrowing. "N-no."

"It's alright, Michael…" Ryan soothed, stepping off the porch and beginning to walk towards his car, which was parked neatly in the man's driveway. He tightened his hold on Michael, hoping the younger man didn't kick and struggle too much before they reached it.

"No! No, I can't, I can't leave!" Michael could feel the hysteria seeping in, he was going to be in so much trouble. He was probably gonna be punished, maybe he'd lock him in his room again like that one time. Maybe he'd lock in the bathroom like that one time. Maybe it'd be the closet, maybe he'd leave him outside. He clawed at Ryan's back, tears already starting to fall before he could stop them. Ray quickly walked towards the car, eyes still glancing around. "Is it locked?"

Ryan dared to take his hand off Michael's back momentarily, digging a hand into his pocket and pulling out his keys, tossing them to Ray. Michael's hysteria was beginning to affect him, and he glanced around worriedly, beginning to walk faster.

Ray caught the keys easily, unlocking the car doors and opening the back seat for him to put Michael in. Once he did, Ray looked in put his finger to the man's mouth and glared at him sternly. "Hush." He commanded, "Just give me a few minutes, Michael. You can scream all you want once the doors are shut." He leaned back out, motioning for Ryan to get in with him before walking over to the driver's seat.

 

Ryan raised an eyebrow as Ray slid into the driver's seat, but didn't argue, sliding in next to Michael and shutting the door behind him. He reached over to buckle the younger man in before clicking the lock on his own seat belt; fucking safety first. "You know how to get to my apartment from here?" Ryan asked. He'd never invited the man over, but that didn't mean Ray hadn't followed him at some point; that fucker was stealthy.

"Not cause I was following you. Someone else was, don't worry; I killed him. R and R connection, am I right?" He shot him back a smile, groaning when Michael kicked at his seat. The man was absolutely in a fit, tears flowing steadily from his face as he kicked his feet out. "I hate you, I hate both of you." Ray looked behind him as he pulled out of the driveway, buckling himself up as he did.

Ryan wasn't quite sure if he believed Ray, but let it slide. "Does he always act like an angry child when he's like this?" Ryan mused, reaching out a hand to squeeze Michael's thigh and give the man a small smile. Any negativity was sure to make Michael think the older man hated him.

Ray sighed, resting his elbow against the window and rubbing at his face. Ryan didn't understand yet that it was because he was just probably retaught to be a child, to be the man's baby. The thought made Ray cringe. "Sort of." He mused. Michael shot a swift kick to the man's ankle, crossing his arms across his chest and blinking away the furiously falling tears.

"Jesus!" Ryan cried, taking his hand off of Michael in favor of rubbing his ankle. "Fucking hell, Michael…" He shot the man a glare, before turning his attention to the road, making sure Ray actually did know where he was going.

Ray took the turns he needed too, keeping a close eye on the sobbing man in the backseat. He'd stopped kicking, so that was nice; though he still looked absolutely wrecked. He had half a mind to tell Ryan to just hold him, but he could understand why the man wouldn't want to. Michael was complicated, this version of Michael was even more complicated. "Michael, did he cut your hair?" Ray questioned calmly. 

"Yeah." Michael sniffled out, rubbing his hands across his eyes. "Didn't want him to."

Ray kept up the conversation easily, tone not jumping or picking up any sort of pitch. "Yeah?" 

"Told him no, told him he couldn't make me. He could." Michael bit at his bottom lip, eyes going downcast again.

Ryan left off examining the bruise on his ankle to stare at Michael, an almost horrified look on his face before he trained it back into practiced neutrality. He let his eyes rake over the man, searching for any bruises or hints of physical abuse, and found none. Well, that was a bit of a relief… but not much of one.

 

Ray let out a sigh, rubbing his forefinger and thumb across his brow line. "So he gave you pills?" Ray asked gently, eyes glancing up at him in the mirror. Michael nodded, "They're in Ryan's pocket." Ray glanced at Ryan that time, "X?" He questioned.

"Looks like it," Ryan confirmed, making a face. "A rainbow of 'em. They look like fucking candy." He'd never understood the idea of making drugs aesthetically appealing; their point was to get you high, not to impress your friends. Then again, he generally wasn't one to be concerned with presentation.

Ray was thankful when he pulled into the parking garage, parking and taking a minute to rest his head against the steering wheel.

"Ryan says I'm not a whore, Ray." Michael muttered, fumbling with his seatbelt and leaning forward to rest his chin on the seat of the car. "It's cause you're not, Michael." Ray told him, rubbing the man's tears away with a thumb before getting out of the car.

Ryan unbuckled his seatbelt, getting out of the car and motioning for Ray to toss him the keys. He caught them expertly, locking the car and guiding the two men into the lobby of the apartment complex. For once, the old lady sitting at the front desk wasn't asleep, and gave Ryan a scandalized look as he led a sobbing man and a puerto rican with what was almost obviously a gun shoved down the back of his pants into the building. The older man made a note to remind Ray to store his heavy weaponry elsewhere, shooting the woman a cool stare until she looked away.

Ray leaned against the elevator wall, watching Michael stand pointedly away from the two of them. He wanted to roll his eyes, but choose not to; instead moving closer and patting a hand across the man's back. He couldn't even imagine what sort of shit the man had made him go through in the last day or so. And Ray himself still had to explain some of it to Ryan, he had to call Geoff as well at some point, but that could wait. "He made me suck him off." Michael murmured quietly, "I threw up." Ray moved a hand to rub at the base of his neck, guiding him gently out of the elevator.

Ryan thought of the come stains on the man's sheets, but didn't mention it, leading the men down the hall to his apartment in silence. He unlocked the door, motioning them inside before closing it behind him, both locking and dead-bolting it, just to be safe.

Ray took a breath, looking up at Ryan and shaking his head in exasperation. "Silk sheets?" Michael questioned, small smile forming at the edges of his face. "Do you want..to uh..get him cleaned up or something? He smells rank... I'm gonna grab him some water and some advil; it'll help with the crash." Ray knew very well Michael would be more comfortable with Ryan undressing him than Ray. He shoved the clothes into Ryan's arms.

Ryan looked down at the bundle, and back to Michael. He suddenly didn't know what to do with the man, now that he'd witnessed Ray's practiced handling. "Come on, Michael…" the older man sighed, motioning for the other to follow him to the bathroom, "Let's get you showered, and then you can sleep."

Michael followed the command easily, hands moving to grab onto the man's arm. "I'm sorry, about your foot." He murmured, eyes blinking up at him apologetically as they walked.

"It's fine," Ryan murmured, closing the bathroom door shut behind them. He wasn't quite sure about the level of comfort Ray and Michael had in their relationship when it came to nudity. "Do you want help washing?" he asked, unsure if the man would end up collapsing in a ball on the tile again.

"If you want to." Michael spoke softly, slipping his shirt from over his head and glancing at himself in the mirror, eyes blanking when he swore he saw Jackson pressed up against him.

Ryan figured he was better safe than sorry, pulling his shirt off and unzipping his jeans, pushing them to the floor along with his boxers. Michael had seen it all before. He walked over to the shower, turning it on and waiting for the water to heat up, noticing that the younger man was still in his boxers.

Michael turned around, flushing slightly at Ryan's state of nakedness. He knew he was bound to have some pretty horrible marks on his lower half,choosing not to look at the mirror as he slid his boxers off of his hips and stepped out of them.

There were bruises in the shape of hands on the man's hips, another mark to add to his collection: the purplish blotch from his cracked rib, the slowly healing cuts that no longer sent a shiver up Ryan's spine, and now Jackson's handprints. The older man noticed that the usual tuft of auburn hair that trailed from Michael's belly button to the base of his cock was missing too, and he tore his eyes away. He felt as if he was invading the man's privacy, violating him with his eyes.

Michael didn't mind the looks so much, just prepared himself to do whatever the man asked. He stood there somewhat awkwardly, moving a hand to hold his elbow.

Ryan frowned when Michael just stood there, shifting from foot-to-foot rather than getting into the shower. He supposed spending the day with Jackson had made him revert back to some fucked up form of submission, stepping under the nearly scalding spray of the shower, motioning for the man to follow.

Michael stepped in, foot nearly slipping on the tiles. It stung, but it wasn't as bad as it could've been and the water did a good job of masking his tears. He pressed his fingertips to Ryan's stomach lightly, he didn't want to admit to comparing their bodies.

Ryan glanced down at Michael, who was prodding his stomach with an almost longing expression. The older man remembered the lack of junk food on his shelves, and closed his eyes tightly. He went to the gym regularly, more because it was part of his routine than any sort of desire to be healthy, and while he hadn’t lost all traces of fat or anything, there was hard muscle underneath the thin layer. He wasn’t necessarily proud of his appearance, but he didn’t hate the way he looked. In fact, he couldn’t care less about being considered attractive, unless it involved seducing one of his victims.

Michael though… Well, Ryan would be lying if he didn’t say he’d loved the aesthetic of the man before he ever thought of him sexually. Michael was all freckles and curly hair and intensity, the softer curves of his stomach serving to offset his generally angry expression. He was the kind of person who lived on the line of adorable and sexy, and that was a quality Ryan had never quite been able to resist.

The older man ran a hand over Michael’s shoulder, stepping in to give the top of his head a soft kiss. Seeing him like this was… It hurt, for some reason, and Ryan just wanted make the man’s pain melt away.

Michael practically collapsed into the touches, hands winding around the man and pressing their bodies together tightly. He wasn't trying to do anything with it necessarily, he just needed to be hugged and coddled. Whether it was fake or not, he needed it. "He made me shave." He murmured quietly, hands gripping against the man's sides.

"I know…" Ryan murmured, closing his eyes and feeling a small tear run down his cheek, immediately lost in the shower spray. He couldn't remember the last time he'd cried… Maybe it was over Victoria. Or maybe it was later than that, when one of his partners had left him. Maybe it had been when that dog he'd brought home from the shelter had keeled over after a week (Could dogs get aneurysm? He wasn't sure, but it had died anyways). But here he was, crying- ever so slightly- over the mess of a man that Michael Jones had become… Well, not so much as become as forced to become. And the kicker was, Ryan actually cared.

Michael sniffled lightly, hands moving across the man's back, wincing at the slightly raised scratches. "I'm sorry." He mumbled out, eyes watery and red as he looked up at him.

"Don't be sorry…" Ryan whispered, afraid that he might start actually crying if he spoke any louder. He leaned forward to press a small kiss to Michael's lips, pausing- frozen in place- to make sure the man was okay with the movement.

Michael opened his mouth obediently, hands trailing up across the man's chest. He kissed back, making sure he tilted his neck down submissively. He had to be good, Ryan was still here and paying him so much attention and he hadn't left him to shower alone, he hadn't asked him to so much as thank him. If Ryan finally wanted something from him, he was more than willing to give.

Ryan almost let out a sigh at the automatic nature of the man's submission. It was robotic rather than romantic… Since when did he care about romantic? But that was an issue to ponder later; now he should be thinking about Michael. He disconnected their mouths, pressing a tentative kiss to Michael's collar bone- a chaste flutter of lips that turned into more, quick kisses as he peppered the man's left side with affection. He moved down, kissing the cut on Michael's sternum and sinking to his knees. He was tall enough that his head was more level with the man's belly button than his cock, and he kissed there too, lingering to press his forehead to Michael's stomach and close his eyes, his thumbs idly tracing circles into the man's sides.

Michael could feel his face heat up harshly when Ryan sank to his knees, confusion lacing his face as his stomach tensed. "W-what're you doing?"

"Nothing, if you don't want me to," Ryan looked up, gazing intently at Michael. "I don't- I'm not doing anything." He pressed his lips to the man's belly again, not taking his eyes of Michael as he affectionately kissed the pudge. It was perfect; he was perfect.

Michael frowned, "You're doing something, why are you kissing my stomach?" He had to admit the way Ryan looked right now was pretty erotic, whether or not his emotions were all over the place. He hated his stomach, and he was starting to hate Ryan bringing attention to it.

"I like your stomach," Ryan shrugged as nonchalantly as he could given the fact that he was on his knees and feeling… he didn't know what. He couldn't place a name to the emotion inside him, but it was sweet and warm and it fucking hurt… Almost ached.

"Uhm, okay?" Michael mumbled questioningly. He let his hands hold the sides of the man's face, looking intently in his eyes. "If you stay down there much longer, I am without a doubt going to start sporting a boner." He cracked a small smile, this was something Jackson would never do and he took relaxation in the differences between the two.

A smile spread across Ryan's face at that, and he turned his attention away from Michael's stomach, kissing down it to nuzzle the base of the man's cock. He kissed there too, sinking down slightly so that he was on a more level plane with Michael's dick.

Michael moaned harshly, one arm moving to tug into the man's hair while the other rested behind his own head, pillowing it from the hard wall of the shower. "Ah, Ryan..." He was already hardening, trying to keep his hips still as he looked at the man kneeling on the shower floor.

Ryan smiled up at him: a lazy, elated grin that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. He moved his hand from Michael's side, where it rested just above Jackson's hand-shaped bruises, to give the man's cock a few, quick strokes. He pressed another chaste kiss to the head, letting his lips longer there as he looked up at Michael for permission.

 

Michael whined out, hand gripping tightly into the man's hair as his hips wiggled against the wall. "Pl-please." He pleaded uncharacteristically. Ryan looked amazing from this angle, wet body kneeling in front of him as he kissed at his cock, blue eyes that stared up at him and Michael had to take a few moments to realize what was actually happening.

A smirk played around the corners as he took the head of Michael's cock into his mouth, not moving his gaze away from the man. He slid his tongue around it, teasing the slit and using one hand to slowly stroke what he didn't have in his mouth.

Michael bit at his bottom lip, fingers gripping harsher on the man's hair. He could already feel his legs starting to shake. Damn Ryan for being so good at this. "Ryan..." He moaned out, hips shifting against the tiles. The sight alone had Michael already wanting to come, but now he was feeling it and he was already tiptoeing near the edge.

Ryan took more of the man into his mouth, sucking harshly, using the hand not stroking Michael's dick to fondle his balls. It was odd, exploring the man by feel rather than sight, but definitely not unpleasant. The way Michael was moaning and the sight of his flushed face, no longer looking quite so tearstained, made his own cock begin to harden.

Michael slid the other hand from behind his head, moving it into Ryan's hair as well. He knew he wasn't supposed to cum until Ryan did, but this was torture. "I-I, c-can't... God, you feel so good, Ryan, please... Please let me."

Ryan pulled off Michael to answer, his hands continuing their ministrations as he spoke, "It's okay, Michael. You can come." He licked a stripe up the underside of the man's cock, pressing another kiss to the head. He didn't really feel like swallowing Michael's cum after he'd heard the story about Jackson.

Michael's fingers clung to the man's hair as he let out desperate gasps, he didn't need much more persuasion than that, focusing entirely on the feeling of Ryan's hand, and his fucking /tongue/, Jesus. He fell over the edge quickly, tugging the strands of Ryan's hair in warning, in case he wanted to move away before he came.

Ryan moved to the side quickly, but still ended up his Michael's come on his cheek. He didn't really mind, chuckling and letting the water wash it away as he stood, wrapping his arms around the man and kissing the top of his head. "I think you got come in my eye," he murmured good-naturedly into the curls.

Michael let his body slump back against the wall, panting slightly as Ryan stood. He'd already been tired, but this just helped the exhaustion hit more. He leaned his head on the man's shoulder, hands still wound tight in his hair. "I'm sorry... You're still hard- do you need me to?"

 

Ryan shrugged uncaringly, rubbing Michael's back with one hand, "It's a semi. It'll probably go away on its own. Let's get you cleaned up." He smiled gently down at the man, reaching out to grab a bottle of shampoo from the alcove carved into the shower wall.

Michael nodded lightly against the man's chest, making no move to lean away from him, he just kept his body slumped half against the wall and half against Ryan. He felt entirely exhausted, emotionally and physically.

Ryan poured a dollop of shampoo into his hand and began to gently massage Michael's head with his fingers, working it into a lather before maneuvering them so that the water would adequately rinse the man's curls. He tapped Michael's nose with a finger, leaving a soapy spot on the tip.

Michael relaxed into the massaging, it was incredibly soothing, actually Ryan in general was soothing. He crinkled his nose at the soap on his face, he let his teeth bite at the man's chest playfully.

Ryan bit his lip to keep from grinning, but his willpower quickly ran out and he was smiling widely. He felt… giddy, almost. Elated. He couldn't quite place the feeling, couldn't quite wrap his brain around it, but somehow… that was okay. Usually Ryan had to understand things; he'd stayed up until 3am to figure out how exactly his desktop worked, purely out of curiosity. But with Michael, he was oddly content to simply press his lips to the other man's, tilting Michael's chin upwards to meet him. "He doesn't deserve you," Ryan whispered into the kiss, so soft he wasn't sure if the younger man could even hear him.

Michael frowned up at him, but pressed his lips back into Ryan's, clinging to the comfort harshly. He didn't quite believe Ryan, didn't believe the act he was putting on. He wrapped his arms around the man's neck tighter.

Ryan stayed like that for a few minutes, his lips resting against Michael's and his arms wrapped around the younger man as the hot water ran over them. He wanted to stay in this position forever, but he knew that Michael was tired and the water would run cold eventually and he had no right to be so selfish. So he separated from the other man, turning off the water and grabbing a towel from the rack just outside, rubbing it over Michael's hair and chest, drying him and then himself.

Michael smiled softly at the almost babying way Ryan was taking care of him, it was different than his normal attitude. Geoff had always been more coddling, but he had to admit he loved it coming from Ryan. He yawned sleepily, almost stepping out of the shower but grabbing at Ryan instead. He didn't trust himself not to slip and get a concussion.

Ryan wrapped the towel around his waist, letting Michael grip at his arm for support as he stepped out of the shower. He grabbed the stack of clothes from the counter, slightly damp from the steam, and handed them to the man, not bothering to tug on his own, discarded garments.

Michael tugged his boxers up over his hips sluggishly, grabbing his sweats as well and tugging them up. He slid the shirt over his head, rubbing his eyes once his clothes were all on.

"You want to go to bed?" Ryan asked, opening the bathroom door and looking down the hallway towards his room and back at Michael, raising an eyebrow. The younger man looked wiped.

Michael nodded, beginning to walk sluggishly from the bathroom, he noted Ray sitting in a kitchen chair who offered a wave. Michael smiled back, moving a hand to grab at Ryan's as walked slowly towards the man's bedroom.

Ryan looked down at their linked fingers, furrowing his brow, but didn't turn away. He shot Ray a look that he hoped generally communicated "We'll talk later," before following Michael to his room. His bed was neatly made, as per-usual, and he'd actually gotten around to cleaning a bit, but not much. He'd finally unpacked that box of his old boyfriend's stuff that the man had forgotten, and he briefly wondered if they'd fit Michael.

Michael noted the bottle of water and advils on Ryan's bedside table, he crawled on his knees across the bed, sighing at the comfortable plushness of it. He opened the bottle and took a sip before swallowing down the pills as well. He kicked his way under the blankets, snuggling into the niceness of the silk sheets. He let his head rest on top of the pillows, yawn falling from his mouth tiredly.

Ryan smiled, realizing Ray must have shuffled through his cabinets to find the medicine and briefly wondering what else he found, before kissing Michael’s forehead. He got dressed quickly, throwing on his own pair of boxers, sweats, and a shirt. “Sleep tight,” he quipped, smoothing the younger man’s hair with a hand.

Michael crashed almost instantly after Ryan kissed his forehead, the intensity of the last day had really taken a toll on him and Ryan's bed was incredibly soft in all the best way's. 

Meanwhile Ray had been stressing over the entire situation, why had the man come back exactly? Did he know about the hit Geoff put out for him? Did Michael know about the hit? And why had the man called Ryan when Geoff seemed to know more?

Ryan maneuvered down the hall and back into the main room. He sat down across from Ray, lacing his fingers in front of him and raising an eyebrow, prompting the man to start talking.

"Okay, so." Ray ran a hand across his face. "Shit, I barely even know where to start. I think I might know why he came back... But I'm not positive."

"I'd rather start with who the hell 'he' is," Ryan said, keeping the undertone of anger he was feeling out of his voice. He could do deadpan; he'd been keeping his face a blank slate since he was what? Seven?

"Right, okay. Jackson Reed. He runs the orphanage Michael grew up in. After Michael reached seventeen, he was all over Michael. He took him in, I already said this- anyway, he's really into daddy kink.. And not just bedroom shit, like full on controlling Michael." Ray took a sip of his own water bottle before continuing. "He taught Michael how to "behave", but in cruel ways. Uh, he literally makes Michael think like a child."

Ryan nodded, his face darkening and his fists clenching in spite of himself. He understood the appeal of control but /that/? That sounded… horrible. Who wanted jury-rig their own human fucktoy? The best part of being intimate with someone- sex or torture- was the individual experience. No two people screamed alike.

"Anyway, he has rules that he put on Michael. I assume he re-broke them in cause I haven't heard him curse yet. I don't know what all he said to him, but this guy literally knows everything about Michael's insecurities and he uses it to his advantage. So... " Ray muttered out, leaning back in his chair.

Ryan gritted his teeth, "And the X?" He made a mental note to flush all of the pills in his jeans' pocket down the toilet before Michael looked for them. They were still on the floor of his bathroom, and that made him a bit nervous.

"I think he runs a drug company of sorts, but I haven't done enough research on it... He used to use different shit for Michael, shots sometimes, pills other times. Michael was completely addicted to X the first time I got to know him, had to lower his doses to get him to stop." Ray shook his head, sighing. He'd done so much to get Michael normal again and here it was being torn down. "He'll want more of it, that's for sure."

"And we ran from this bastard why exactly?" Ryan raised an eyebrow. Personally, he wanted to carve the man up in an extremely /personal/ fashion. A clip point blade might not quite do the trick; he'd have to find something larger in his arsenal.

"Not for us, believe me, I hate the asshole. Geoff actually has the entirety of criminals searching for him. For Michael, he's spent years being manipulated by him, and the moment the he's anywhere near him he'll go back. It's better to take him away, find the dick later." Ray informed him easily, hand scratching at the back of his neck.

Ryan nodded; it made sense, and he was nothing if not rational. "I get to kill him," he murmured- a statement, not a question. There was no way he was letting that bastard die without having him under his knife. He was already formulating a plan in his head, trying to figure out a way Jackson wouldn't die of blood loss before he was finished.

"Fine with me." Ray shrugged, he honestly couldn't think of a better person to kill him. He still hadn't told Ryan anything about actually handling Michael, but it was always difficult to start talking like he was Michael's therapist or something.

Ryan worried his lower lip, staring off into space. It wasn't a fantasy he'd had before, killing someone he hated. Honestly, the only other person the older man could remember disliking to this degree was his mother, and he'd killed her quickly. He wasn't quite sure what he'd use… Whether he'd even wear his mask. He pushed his chair away from the table and stood, dialing the correct sequence into the padlock on his knife cabinet and opened it, looking over his options.

Ray's eyes widened at the cabinet, eyes trailing across the weaponry. "You're going now?" He asked incredulously, eyebrows shooting up.

"Not necessarily," Ryan shrugged, not turning away from the wall of blades. His mask sat in the right corner, ready in case he decided to use it. "I'm just looking over my options…" He trailed his fingers along the wall, hand settling momentarily on a large blade that looked almost like a butcher knife… It might do, for part of it.

Ray didn't mind Ryan, but Jesus that guy could be terrifying and he was incredibly glad he was on the good side of things when it came to the man.

Ryan hummed to himself absently, brow furrowed as he observed the array. They were mostly combat knives, but he had a few more ornate blades and pocket knives mixed into the assortment. He carefully picked out a warrior knife (One of his newer purchases), a tactical fixed blade that had been designed by someone semi-famous, and his favorite Bowie knife. He briefly considered taking one of the more delicate blades, but decided against it; they were too good for the bastard. He'd finesse his plan later, maybe choose something a bit more serrated, but for now he laid his choices neatly on the counter along with his mask, closing the cabinet again.

"Those are nice." Ray complimented easily, it was a nice collection to say the least. He was rather impressed with how well polished they all were. He obviously took care of them, that was for sure. "I should probably warn you about the nightmares and flashbacks... Also breakdowns. Uhm... You've already experienced one I guess, with the shower."

Ryan's thoughtful expression collapsed into a slightly guilty one at the mention of the shower incident "I- thanks." He murmured, holding the warrior knife up as if he were examining it, but really he just wanted to avoid looking at Ray. He really felt… stupid for that one. "But please do explain how to handle them…" Ryan glanced at Ray, feeling all too ignorant.

 

"Yeah, sure. Uh, well they're difficult to deal with, to say the least. He /wants/ to be cuddled, he won't admit it, he'll probably hit at you if you try.. But don't like let him push you away. He loses rational thought entirely, so he'll absolutely do something possibly dangerous." Ray muttered calmly. "There's not really anything you can say to him. Just make sure he knows you aren't going to leave. It comes from when Jackson would leave him in his room locked up... So. Just don't be like him and you're good."

Ryan's eyes snapped over to the man and he gritted his teeth angrily. "I'm a psychopath, Ray, not some fucked up, abusive rapist who wants to turn Michael into my personal fuck toy,” he growled, almost slamming the knife down on the counter. He was sick of people thinking that he was a sick bastard just because he enjoyed a little blood.

Ray kept his gaze on the man's harshly, though he flinched at the tone. "I'm not saying you are, I'm one of the few people who doesn't think that. I asked you to take him /here/. Not to Geoff's, not to mine. Yours." Ray hissed out rationally, "If I thought for a fucking second you were going to actually hurt Michael, I wouldn't be here and neither would he."

Ryan deflated visibly, rubbing the bridge of his nose with one hand. "No- I know you are. I'm sorry. I'm just… itchy." He almost smirked at the pun, though he knew Ray wouldn't get it. His skin felt like it was on fire, practically.

"It's fine, I get it. I do think I'm gonna head home, do some research on the guy so that we can find him. Maybe call Geoff. Call me if you have any questions or anything." Ray stood up, fixing his beanie and walking towards the door.

Ryan nodded, running a hand through his hair. He closed the door behind Ray, dead bolting it once more. It was nearly 11 and he dead tired, but he knew his mind was far too fired up for him to actually get any sleep. Still, he shuffled back to his room, opening the door cautiously, hoping not to wake Michael up.

Michael let out soft murmurs against the man's pillows, closed eyes squinting at the bright light of the hallway. He shifted slightly, hands clinging to the blankets. His breathing was shallow and steady, body curled up tightly into himself.

Ryan closed the door behind him, taking off his shirt and sweats before climbing into bed. He slipped under the covers, letting out a small sigh at the smoothness of the sheets. If he was going to be able to fall asleep anywhere, this would be the place.

Michael's eyes shot open, imagining a blade in front of his face before noticing Ryan. He scurried backwards, almost backing off the bed entirely as he shook his head frantically.

"Michael?" Ryan sat up worriedly, hesitant to immediately pull the man close to him, despite what Ray had said.

Michael took a deep breath, the man's voice bringing him back slightly. "You scared me..." He murmured easily, though he was still teetering on the edge of the bed.

"Sorry," Ryan murmured, reaching forward to gently grab Michael's wrist; the man looked like he was about to fall of the edge of the bed. He gave the man a tiny smile, almost invisible in the dark.

Michael almost tried to back away from the contact, only moving closer when he almost slipped off the bed. He bit at his bottom lip nervously, unsure of what the man wanted from him.

Ryan laid back down, hand still holding gently onto Michael's wrist. "Come here," he murmured, patting the sheets next to him with his free hand. Even if he couldn't simply sure the man of his demons, he could at least hold him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank God for Ryan am I right? ;) Thanks so much for all the feedback, it's so lovely to hear from you guys!


	29. Chapter 29

Michael clambered forward obediently, sitting close enough to the man that their hips touched. He felt the tears slide down his face before he could stop them. "Thought I saw my knife.." He spoke almost silently.

Ryan's brows furrowed, and he wrapped his arms around the younger man, kissing his forehead. "Is that a bad thing? Personally, I really like that knife." It was nearly perfect for Michael: a fixed blade with a semi serrated edge and a worn grip, primal looking and well-used.

"Wasn't me holding it." Michael moved positions, flipping a knee over Ryan's lap and letting himself slump against his body. He slid his hands across the man's chest, completely relaxed. "He-he got mad cause knives are dangerous."

"Isn't that the point?" Ryan raised an eyebrow, shifting into a slightly more comfortable position and relaxing once more. "It's for self defense- you can't really defend yourself with a teddy bear."

"I'm sorry you have to deal with me." He slid his fingertips under the man's shirt the best he could given the position. He had a headache and he still felt entirely drained.

"I'm not." It wasn't a sweet or loving phrase; Ryan said it like he was simply stating a fact. "I like dealing with you, most of the time." Which was saying something, given that he considered most people a waste of space; ants scurrying around the city's dive bars and whore houses, but with less purpose.

Michael smiled against his chest, fingernails grazing gently along the man's sides. He sighed softly against him, entirely content in the moment. His mind was torturing him with emotions, teetering constantly between reality and things that were simply in his mind.

Ryan let a small grin light up his features, closing his eyes. He let his mind flicker between fantasies. Jackson, a tall, gaunt mess of a man, was spread out on his kitchen table, the skin peeled off his face entirely. The rest of his skin was covered in huge gouges, pits of flesh removed from his arms, his chest, his legs. He'd been brutally castrated, one of the masked man's knives sticking in the place that his cock used to be. Ryan couldn't imagine the screams, but they were there, even if he only heard his own voice humming softly as he worked the bastard over...

Michael fell back asleep quickly, the man's body working as the best pillow. He felt completely safe and almost loved? He wasn't sure. His head was burrowed in the crook of the man's neck, letting out soft breaths as sleep claimed him.

Ryan's brain switched gears- drifting into dreams from his half asleep state. Suddenly, it was Michael on his kitchen table, but the scene wasn't nearly as gruesome. The younger man was lying still, but his face was flushed despite the lines of blood covering his torso. They were primal patterns, hard lines cut symmetrically into either side of his torso. They zigzagged from swirling gouges on his palms up to his torso and down into hard angles surrounding Michael's pectorals. A straight line ran from his sternum downwards, separating into two as it reached the end of his ribcage. The twin cuts curled around Michael's belly, softer than the others, and down into patterns on his thighs and around his legs. There were swirls on his heels that matched those covering the man's palms. His face was unmarked as of yet, but he was smiling. Ryan pressed a kiss to his lips and cuts curled outwards from the corners: a gentler version of a Glasgow smile. A line ran straight from Michael's forehead to the end of his nose, horizontal lines decorating his hairline down to his brows. Angular spirals cupped his cheeks and the older man couldn't place the words that would best describe him. Beautiful was too soft; primal was too dominant; lovely was sickeningly sweet; perfect seemed… insufficient. Because Ryan was in love with the creature before him.

Michael's mind was hyperactive as he dreamt, it began with the orphanage which wasn't surprising; he had long since memorized the walk to Jackson's office, his shoulders felt heavy and his body felt raw. He peeked his head into the window, noting a younger version of himself sucking the man off under the table. The words echoed through his mind "keep quiet, you're not legal enough for this yet.' He tried to open the door, the lock was too tight and he automatically wanted to cry when the man glanced towards the door, cruel smirk lacing his face. The scene switched and they were in a back alley, Jackson towering over him as he yanked down his pants, Michael felt the scream tear from his throat when he looked down and syringes stuck out across his body. The pokes were intense, and his vision blurred as they drugged him. He woke up in the same alleyway, blinking up at the gang standing before him. They rolled their eyes, scoff falling from Ryan's throat as Geoff shook his head. He could hear the light chattering of whore as he thrashed out. "Stop! Stop!"

In reality Michael's legs were kicking out, fists clung tightly at Ryan's shirt as he called out.

Ryan's eyes snapped open as a foot connected with his leg, letting out an involuntary sound of surprise. He came to his senses quickly, sitting up and shaking Michael's shoulder harshly, trying to pull the man from his nightmare.

Michael let out a harsh whimper, eyes still shut tightly, he could barely feel Ryan shaking him, his own thrashing blocking most of it out. "No, n-no, st-stop!"

"Michael, it's me. It's Ryan, wake up," the older man gathered Michael into his arms, holding the man's thrashing arms against his chest and rocking the two of them back and forth slowly, letting his chin rest on the top of Michael's head.

Michael's woke up, eyes blinking open as the dream ceased. He didn't cry, just stared blankly until he finally let his head rest against the man's shoulder, panting slightly from the physical exertion. The rocking was soothing, and Michael fell into the embrace easily.

 

"What was it about?" Ryan murmured, carding his fingers through the younger man's short hair. He could feel his own dream begin to slip away, but he remembered Michael's face covered in… Red paint? Blood? Cuts? and that same warm, elated feeling.

Michael shook his head against him, he wasn't about to tell him that he'd seen them disgusted with him. It made sense to Michael of course, he understood that they could potentially resent him at any time. He didn't move his hands from their position against Ryan's chest, he just lay there, silently.

"Okay, you don't have to tell me," Ryan kissed the top of the man's head, shifting his body so that he could guide them gently back onto the pillows. He let his legs tangle with Michael's, not letting him go or falling asleep… Just waiting.

Michael rested his knee easily in between the man's, his vision blurred as they sat back and he was immensely aware he didn't eat anything yesterday. Maybe he'd eat a cracker or something later. He kissed gently at Ryan's neck, hands moving to grab at his shirt familiarly. He wasn't sure exactly when he became such a needy mess of a person, but here he was.

Ryan smiled down at Michael, tilting his head to the side to expose more of his neck. It was almost odd how the man could go from frightened child to someone who was most definitely an adult, and also partial to cuddles. Ryan wasn't really a fan of the former, but he could deal if it meant he was helping Michael.

Michael continued to kiss at his neck, it wasn't as determined as it normally would've been, but he tried never the less. Moving a hand up to stroke the side of his cheek, he glanced up when he heard his phone chime to tell him there was a message. He lifted his body slightly, knee applying pressure against Ryan as he shrugged it off. It was probably just from Ray.

Ryan shifted against Michael's leg with a satisfied sound. He leaned in to give the man a kiss on the nose, glancing towards the direction chime had come from. "You gonna get that?" he chuckled, running one hand down Michael's back to rest at the small of his back.

"Nah." Michael mumbled, shaking his head with a slight smirk. He heard his stomach growl, cringing as he tried to distract Ryan from the noise with his knee. He grinded it a little higher, hands moving to trail across his chest.

Ryan let out a low noise, grinding his hips down into Michael's leg, but raised an eyebrow at the man. "I could hear that…" he murmured, shifting his hips as he spoke. "You need to eat something before you pass out. Midnight snack?"

"I don't want to..." Michael tried timidly, hands trailing downwards teasingly. He slid his finger into the waistband of the man’s sweats, his other hand rubbing softly at the man's stomach.

 

"Michael…" Ryan sighed heavily, but didn't grab the man's wrists. He just rubbed Michael's back slowly, staring at him with concerned, blue eyes. "You're gorgeous, you really fucking are, but you have to eat something- anything. I would settle for you eating the pint of ice-cream in my fridge right now…"

Michael bit at his bottom lip. "I used to be thinner you know..." He murmured quietly, partly hoping Ryan hadn't heard him. He'd done so good with not eating, a whole fucking day without it was a lot now.. And Ryan talking about food wasn't helping. "I really can't, Ry..."

Ryan chewed his lower lip, his gaze worried as he cupped Michael's face in one hand. "He has no fucking right to tell you what you can and can't eat. You're perfect the way you are now, but this isn't healthy… Please, we can do whatever you want afterwards. Just fucking eat something."

Michael let out a sigh, he could always sneak off later and throw up if he had to and he'd been so good in not eating anything, he deserved something right? "Okay....fine. But you're carrying me there." It was partly because he was enjoying Ryan's embrace too much and partly because he thought he'd pass out if he stood up.

Ryan chuckled, slipping away from Michael's grasp and out of bed. He leaned over the mattress, scooping the man up in his arms bridal style and carrying him to the main room. Their midnight snack was more of a 3am snack, but Ryan figured it was just semantics as long as Michael ate something.

Michael clung to the man's neck, leaning his head over to bite at it gently. He could honestly get so used to this, he glanced at the clock, part of him had been hoping he got a full night sleep, but he knew it was unrealistic after what happened.

Ryan hummed appreciatively, tilting his head to the side to let Michael suck at the skin there. He did have to place the man down though, setting him on the couch and walking to the kitchen. He opened his pantry, noting the paltry amount of food with a grimace. "Anything in particular you want?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder at Michael.

"No." Michael answered simply, curling up on the couch and yawning softly before turning to stare at Ryan as he moved around the pantry.

"Damn," Ryan muttered, settling on a bag of kettle chips from the pantry, setting them to the side. He opened his fridge, pulling out some nearly overdue ham, some slices of american cheese, and a jar of mayo. He quickly made four sandwiches, unsure of just how hungry Michael was, but put two of them on his own plate before sitting beside the man on the couch and handing him both plate and chips.

 

Michael took the food and leaned back slightly, kicking his feet up to rest in Ryan's lap. He stared down at the food, it looked fucking good. He set the chips on his legs, taking a small bite of the sandwich and nearly moaned at the taste, fucking hell he was hungry. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Ryan let the corners of his mouth curl up into a slight smile, taking a bite of his own sandwich. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't anything spectacular- just nearly stale bread with other nearly bad ingredients pressed in between, but it was something. He bumped his shoulder casually into Michael's, enjoying the everyday, ordinary nature of the touch.

Michael took another bite of the sandwich before stuffing a few chips into his mouth. He was thankful that the empty feeling in his stomach was going away. "Do you really think I'm gorgeous?" He glanced up at him, chewing around a mouthful of food.

Ryan looked up from his sandwich, glancing over at Michael with a furrowed brow, "Of course." He said it like it was obvious, even though he knew the man was, deep down, supremely insecure about his appearance. Jackson's fault, more than anything.

"Oh." Michael felt the blush creep onto his cheeks at that. He shifted his feet slightly, eating another chip before setting the food down on the table. He tapped his foot lightly, yawn falling from him as he willed his flushing to disappear.

The older man let a smirk creep onto his lips as he finished his first sandwich, setting his plate down on the coffee table next to Michael's. The other man looked absolutely adorable- sleepy and childish and blushing- even if Ryan did prefer the adult, the one who struggled and bit and teased as he was fucked senseless. But that man was gone now, at least for awhile. Michael hadn't so much as cursed.

Michael leaned forward to press a hesitant kiss to the corner of the man's lips, moving to climb onto his lap and wind his fingers into the man's hair. "I've gotta go home tomorrow." He murmured quietly, resting his forehead against the man's.

"You're not going to," Ryan said softly, a sad smile crossing his lips. He reached up a hand to stroke Michael's cheek gently, his eyes drifting closed. He was never going back, not until Ryan had flayed Jackson alive for what he'd done to him.

"But... I have to..." Michael tried, pulling back slightly. "It's important, he'll be looking for me and I won't be there..."

"Michael…" Ryan's voice was calm, but insistent, "You're never going to see him again." Not if he could help it. The man wouldn't even see Jackson's bloody corpse, unless he needed confirmation.

 

Michael stared down at him for a few seconds, eyes watering slightly before pushing off the man's lap harshly. He searched around for his phone, walking to the kitchen and grabbing it off the counter before moving towards the door.

Ryan walked quickly over to the door, standing in front of it with his arms crossed. He made sure to keep his face calm, his voice steady- Michael would pick up on any hint of doubt. "You aren't leaving."

Michael glared up at him before grabbing his shoe and sliding it unto his foot, doing the same with the other. "What're you going to do? Guard the door? I need to leave... "

"Yes." Ryan's eyes met Michael's, determination evident in the ice-blue orbs. He'd stay up the rest of the night if he had to, tie the man up… He'd hate every second of it, but he would. He really didn't want to.

"Please, Ryan." Michael tried, using a different tactic of pouting his lips and making sure his eyes teared up sufficiently. It almost always worked on Geoff, though he wasn't sure it'd be the same for Ryan. "Please, just let me leave. I'll come back, I will..."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Ryan replied firmly. He internally cringed at the tears in the man's eyes, but it was for his own good... But how many times had he heard that phrase used before? It had been one of his mother's favorites. "Michael... He hurt you. He starved you; he locked you up; he got you addicted to drugs; he /raped/ you..."

"He didn't, he didn't. That's- that's not what it was about." Michael wiped away the tears that spilled down across his cheeks, shaking his head as he practically slumped onto the floor. "He loves me, he was jus-just doing what was best for me." He brought his knees up, moving his arms to hug them close to his chest. "You don't get it."

"No, Michael, I don't. Do you?" Ryan raised a brow, refusing to move from his position by the door to comfort the man, as much as he wanted to; Michael might slip out the door the moment he moved. "How could any of that /possibly/ be good for you?"

"He was teaching me how to be worth /something/!" Michael growled out, brown eyes glaring sharply into the man's blue ones. "If I'm good, someone wants me." Michael could tell his voice broke on the end of his sentence, a near sob escaping from his throat.

"Well, you're being absolutely horrible right now, and I still want you," Ryan muttered, only half intending for the man to hear. The old Michael would have taken advantage of that statement- teased the older man for saying it at the very least. He wasn't sure if this new version would do the same.

 

"I'm sorry." Michael murmured when he told him he was being horrible. Eyes automatically going downcast, choosing instead to stare at Ryan's feet.

Ryan rubbed his face with one hand, letting out a small sigh. "Don't be sorry; be Michael," he murmured without emotion, face hard and blank. He didn't want this broken down shell of a man, 

Michael rubbed a hand across his damp cheeks, moving to lay down on his back; the floor was good enough. "My knife is at home, he put it on the fridge, I think.".

"Want one of mine?" Ryan raised a brow. "I'm sure I could find you something…" He glanced over to his weapons cabinet, noting that the three knives he'd chosen earlier were still on the counter below it.

"It's my first knife.. I'm attached to it." Michael murmured, he didn't need a knife now; he wasn't planning on using it or anything, he just liked having it around. He kicked off the shoes on his feet , glancing at the time on his phone. Almost four thirty, he did feel bad Ray had left Ryan to take care of him... He was emotionally unstable and that didn't always make for the best version of him.

Ryan nodded, stepping away from the door and laying a hand on Michael's shoulder, "We'll get it back, okay? Bastard can't hide forever… In the mean time, we can do whatever you want- besides leave. You did eat something for me." It was only some chips and half a sandwich, but he kissed the man on the forehead nonetheless.

“Okay." Michael murmured, moving to get to his feet. He wound his arms around the man's neck, hands moving to wind into his hair. He pressed a few hesitant kisses to the corners of his mouth, slight smile on his face as he took in the comfort of physical contact.

Ryan turned his head, catching Michael's mouth and kissing him gently. He wrapped his arms around the man, letting his hands rest at the small of his back before pulling away slightly. "So, what shall we get up to?" the older man raised a brow, smirking slightly.

"This?" Michael questioned before kissing along the man's jawline, down towards his neck. "Or this.." He murmured out, moving a knee in between the man's thighs as he continued kissing at the man's neck. It was a good distraction to say the least.

"Works for me," Ryan chuckled, though he was still very aware of their proximity to the door. He stepped forwards, forcing Michael to take a small step back towards the couch, the hands on the small of the man's back moving to give his ass a slight squeeze as Ryan tilted his head to the side, exposing more of his neck.

Michael chuckled against his neck at the ass squeeze, not even paying attention to them moving closer to the couch. He moved a hand to stroke at the man's face gently, his lips mouthing across the man's neck, sucking slightly at a spot just below his ear.

 

Ryan suppressed a grin by biting his lower lip, advancing towards the couch until the back of Michael's knees bumped against it, narrowly avoiding hitting the coffee table. His fingers skimmed over the back of the man's shirt, grabbing the corners and tugging upwards.

Michael shimmied out of his shirt easily, letting Ryan toss it aside. He moved to sit down on the couch, tugging Ryan closer by the waistband of his pants. He slid his fingers up, grabbing at the man's shirt and tugging it up as well.

Ryan complied, lifting his shirt over his head and tossing it to the side. He leaned forwards, planting his hands on the back of the couch, bracketing Michael's head, and pressing his lips to the other man's. He bit at Michael's lower lip, sliding his tongue over the man's lower lip. He wasn't harsh, but he wasn't gentle either; he never really was.

Michael pressed his lips against Ryan's, he was more than happy when his mind flashed images of Ryan over top of him with a knife, licking the blood from the silver blade instead of Jackson. He smiled against Ryan's lips, knowing the man wouldn't know why. He poked his fingers into the waistband of his pants, fingertips dancing teasingly across his skin.

Ryan pulled back and looked down at Michael, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Lie down," his voice was deep and commanding, momentarily reveling in the order before realizing that it might not be welcome. He furrowed his brow, carefully watching for any signs of discomfort in the younger man.

Michael shivered at the tone, chest rising steadily as he made frantic haste to lie back on the couch. A normal day he would've probably disobeyed, smirked at him and whispered out a 'make me'. He wasn't there just quite yet, though he wasn't afraid of Ryan and he was only anticipating what he had in mind.

Ryan let his eyes rake over the man before him, considering his options. He held up a hand, prompting Michael to stay put as he strode down the hallway to his bedroom and grabbed a bottle of lube and a condom. He considering taking out some of the toys he kept stashed in the back of the closet before deciding against it; Michael was practically vanilla, and this was comfort sex. It wasn’t the time for him to be trying something new… Or, at least, /that/ new. He walked back to the living room, items held innocently in hand.

Michael felt a slight panic when the man left him, patiently lying his head back down and waiting. He smirked up at him when he came back, eyes lighting up as he wiggled his hips in anticipation.

Ryan grinned, setting the items on the coffee table and shimmying out of the remainder of his clothes. He raised an eyebrow at Michael, trailing a finger lightly over his chest to the waistband of his sweatpants, slipping a two digits under it and snapping the elastic of the man's underwear. He liked being able to stand over Michael, half-clothed on the couch, while simultaneously being completely nude; there was a sense of power to it.

Michael watched the man strip, cocking his head slightly as he let his eyes rake over the man's nude body. He licked at his lips as his face flushed visibly. He groaned at the snapping of his underwear, Ryan was a fucking tease. He sat up slightly, already moving a hand to run across Ryan's hip.

"So, what-" Ryan swung one leg onto the couch, moving to straddle Michael, "Do you want?" His voice was a sultry murmur as he traced a finger over the man's chest in distinct patterns, ones he could vaguely remember from his dream.

Michael groaned out, head falling back as he flushed more. His teeth barred together as he moved his hips slightly. "C-can, can you use a knife?" He was almost too embarrassed to ask, avoiding the man's eyes. "You don't have to... If you don't want to, but..." Michael really wasn't sure when he became a masochist, but there was something about Ryan that made him love the pain.

Ryan's eyes lit up at that, and he leaned forwards to give Michael a languid kiss, catching the man's lip in between his teeth momentarily before pulling back. "Any requests? I have so many toys…" he wiggled his eyebrows in a way that was more dark and lust-filled than playful.

Michael smiled at the man above him, hips rotating slowly as a shiver ran through him. "Any of them, all of them... I don't care." Michael huffed out quietly. He moved a hand to trail his fingers lightly across the man's cock. He leaned closer to whisper in his ear. "Cut me up, please."'

Ryan let out a low growl, burying his face in Michael's neck, biting and sucking at the skin harshly before standing. His hands were shaking slightly in anticipation, but the moment he grabbed his tactical knife from the counter, he felt an eerie calm take over his senses. It was might be too large for the delicate whorls he wanted to cut into Michael's skin, but he was both inpatient and skilled enough that he could make it work. He walked back over to the younger man, slowly straddling him once more. He was half hard just from the /idea/.

Michael moaned at the feeling of Ryan's mouth on his neck, nearly whining when he pulled away but knew better things were to come. He watched him walk away, hands placed flat on the couch as he smirked at the blade. It'd definitely do.

Ryan traced the index finger of his free hand down Michael's sternum, over the nearly-healed cut he'd made the last time the man had allowed him to indulge himself. "How far can I go?" the older man murmured, entranced with the expanse of skin before him. He'd still have to avoid Michael's ribs but… Oh, there were possibilities.

 

"As far as you want... Just don't let me pass out from blood loss." Michael murmured, absolutely adoring the man's trance, he realized that both Ryan and Geoff paid so much attention to him, to his body, even in their differences. That was something Jackson never did. He slid his fingers to the waistband of his own sweats sliding one side down slightly. "But.. Uh, can you cover these up? I know it's over bruises and it's probably going to hurt worse... I just really hate them." Michael ran his other hand along Ryan's face gently.

Ryan nodded, shifting so that he could pull down Michael's boxers and sweatpants enough to expose the skin, along with the man's cock. He furrowed his brow slightly, contemplating what pattern to slice over the bruises. "This might be easier if you were on a table…" he mused, trailing the blade of his knife lightly down Michael's chest, "But I think I can manage."

"I can move." Michael told him, his breath hitching at the feel of the cold blade. It made his skin crawl deliciously. He shifted slightly, excited by the man's look of contemplation.

Ryan glanced over at the coffee table, and back at Michael… That would do. He set his knife to the side and stood, clearing away a few of the more breakable items and their plates from earlier, setting the lube and condom to the side, before sweeping the surface clear with his arm. Papers, novels, a few empty food containers, and various knick knacks were knocked to the floor in favor of making the older man a workplace. He picked up his knife again, gesture with it for Michael to move onto the now-empty surface.

Michael chuckled easily, standing up and stepping out of his clothes fully, a smirk lacing his features as he moved to sit on the coffee table, straddling it before lying down and lacing his fingers and resting them behind his head. For some odd reason, he felt incredibly confident with Ryan, totally okay with letting himself sprawl out across the man's coffee table.

Ryan chuckled softly at the casual way Michael was lying, but the sound had a dark tinge to it. He decided to begin by reopening the old wounds he'd made, resting the point of his knife just below the man's collar bone and drawing it down. He took a moment to admire the wound, before slicing into the two parallel cuts below Michael's pectorals, quickly ruining all the work the man's body had done to repair them.

Michael hissed out at the initial slice, the stinging was sharp and quick, it felt... Well he wasn't sure amazing was the right term but the adrenaline was rewarding. "Ah, fuck..." He immediately flinched at the language, slightly worried the man might stop entirely.

Ryan's lips twitched up at the word; there he was, the old Michael. He rewarded the man by leaning over him, licking the cut on Michael's sternum from base to tip, ending by planting a slow kiss on his lips. He felt electric.

 

Michael moaned at Ryan's tongue, the mix of pleasure and pain causing him to arch his chest into the man's mouth. He smiled when he kissed him, the metallic taste of the kiss sending shivers along his spine.

Ryan couldn't recall the first time he'd tasted blood; he didn't know if he'd acquired a liking for it over time, or if licking a metal spoon had always made his brain short circuit for a moment in desire for the real thing. He remembered spending his childhood trying to sneak pennies from his mother's purse, just so that he could suck them. She'd hit him- smacked him roughly on the cheek and told him he was two seconds away from choking on his own stupidity, but he'd kept doing it anyways. Now, the taste reminded him of rough sex and knives, and he knew it was one he could get addicted to, if Michael let him. He stood back up, examining the man's chest to focus on his hips- the bruises there, in particular.

Michael whined under his gaze, impatiently waiting for him to keep cutting at his skin. He gripped his fingers into his own hair, trying to distract himself from the anticipation.

Ryan gnawed his lip in consideration. He wasn't sure what patterns he could cut into the skin that would hide the bruises, and he didn't want to hit Michael's femoral artery by accident if he slipped and cut too deep. Still, the man was flushed and anxious to be torn apart in a way that he found irresistible… Ryan cut into the nearly-healed line just to the inside of Michael's right hip as he considered his options.

Michael winced slightly, closing his eyes tightly and leaning his head back. He could feel the blood trickling from his wounds, almost tickling his skin as he raised his hips up slightly. It was official, he was enjoying this way too much. "Holy fuck..."

Ryan started in on the other side, smirking. "Those bruises are in an inconvenient spot… I'm not sure I'll be able to do much with them…" He didn't want to mutilate Michael's skin; he wanted to decorate it.

Michael sighed, he had told him he expected the pain; oh well, he'd just have to do it later himself. "It's fine." Michael murmured, hips shifting slightly under the feel of the new slices.

"I didn't say I couldn't do anything…" Ryan murmured, "But I'm going to need a better angle. Get on your hands and knees." It was probably the position the bruises had been inflicted in, and he couldn't help but grimace.

"Yeah sure, better angle." Michael joked, he knew Ryan knew what he was talking about, but it sent reminders and he was trying to laugh his way out of it. He did as he was told, moving unto his hands and knees and biting at his bottom lip in anticipation.

Ryan stepped behind the man. He had to admit, Michael's ass looked amazing from this view, and it gave him an idea. He started just below the place where the man's ass met his thigh, making as shallow a cut as possible as he dragged the knife in a curving diagonal, carefully slicing directly through the center of the handprint.

Michael nearly yelped, he'd been expecting a sting on his hips, not on his ass. It stung slightly, but he definitely had enjoyed it, even moving his ass back to show just how nice it felt. "Jesus..." He hissed out, gritting his teeth.

"Sorry…" Ryan murmured, even though he found the pained sound to be positively arousing. He soothed the welling cut by tracing his thumb over it, sucking off the blood and letting his eyes drift closed for a moment before he got back in the zone, cutting a triangle shape into Michael's hips. The diagonal line ran straight through it, one of the shape's points pointing towards Michael's ass while the others spread themselves to further obscure the bruise.

Michael felt the adrenaline run through his veins as the man sliced, his talent was both enticing and arousing and it caused Michael to cry out at the pain. His head tilted backwards, mouth agape as breathless noises found their way out of his throat. "Fuck, shit... Thi-this should definitely not feel as good as it does..."

Ryan chuckled darkly, feeling himself get harder at the sinfully obscene sounds making their way from Michael's mouth. He shifted to start on the other side, working quicker this time. "Normality is entirely overrated, I've found." He noted that blood was dripping onto his coffee table, but he couldn't quite bring himself to care.

Michael bit at his lips, trying to still his hips from wiggling into the blade, his arms were starting to lack the support to hold him up but he didn't dare slump forward, not wanting to mess up Ryan's skilled practice. He whined out at one of the particularly painful nicks, almost asking him to push deeper. He gnawed on his lower lip instead, a shiver running through him.

Ryan finished the second triangle expertly, backing up to admire his work. He noticed that Michael's arms were shaking visibly, and he frowned, licking the man's blood off of his knife before setting it onto the couch and crouching down in front of him. "You're shaking."

Michael nodded slightly, there definitely wasn't any denying his shaking arms, he moved to sit back, straddling the coffee table again as he took a breather. "I'm fine." He murmured easily, the cut along his ass stung from the cold wood of the table. The adrenaline was making his body start to tremble slightly.

"Mm," Ryan hummed, raising an eyebrow. He sat down, resting his elbows on the table and grabbed his own forearms to avoid touching himself. Self control was a lot harder when he wasn't holding a knife.

Michael ran his hands across the man's arms, his own palms were sporting small traces of blood from the droplets that had fallen onto the table. Michael was honestly proud of himself for not getting off during it, last time he'd gone way too early. Of course, Ryan had been touching him last time. "You like?" He questioned softly, glancing down at his own chest and smiling at the nearly covered bruises.

A smirk curled the corners of Ryan's mouth, "I do. Some of my finer work…" He reached out to run a finger up the center line of one of the triangles, licking the blood off with a pleasured noise. "And usually I don't get to /taste/ people..."

"Holy shit dude..." Michael muttered, swallowing as Ryan tasted the blood, /his/ blood. Michael leaned forward, capturing the man's lips with his own. He cupped the side of his face as he kissed him needily.

Ryan kissed back, rising up to his knees and supporting himself on the coffee table- palms planted flat against the surface. /This/ was more like it. This was the Michael he…. 'had affection for' seemed too clinical, and 'loved' was, in all likelihood, entirely inaccurate. He set that thought aside, biting at the man's lower lip; it didn't matter. Things were /right/, now.

"I'm ready now if you want to do some more..." Michael mumbled against his lips, hands trailing down the man's chest. He honestly didn't think he ever wanted to stop Ryan from slicing at his skin, it was entirely too addicting.

"You act as if I have some semblance of control with a knife in my hand," Ryan murmured, moving his lips to suck a light hickey into Michael's neck. He wasn't sure he'd be able to stop if he started again, and the man might die of blood loss if that happened. He'd have to do some research...

"Alright." Michael nodded, he moaned at the lips on his neck, tilting his head to give Ryan more room. He grabbed one of Ryan's hands and moved it to the wound under his collarbone, he arched his chest up into the man's hand. He slid his other hand into the man's hair.

Ryan raised himself further up on his knees, pushing Michael backwards firmly and digging his thumb into the wound. There were a million things he wanted to do, but fucking the other man senseless seemed to require the least amount of explanation and preparation.

Michael let himself be pushed backwards, arching up harshly as Ryan's thumb dug in in all the right ways. He cried out somewhat quietly as his body already started to try to grind up closer to the man.

Ryan sank back slightly, hand scrabbling for the bottle of lube and condom he'd so carefully set aside earlier. His fingers closed around them and he grinned. "Think the coffee table can support both of us?"

 

"Probably not, try anyway." Michael chuckled, bringing his mouth to Ryan's neck, honestly at this point he could've been anywhere and he still would've let the man fuck him.

Ryan was more than tempted to try it, but the part of him that still held any amount of common sense encouraged him to separate himself from Michael and stand up so that he could sit back on the couch, dropping the lube and foil-wrapped condom next to him. He grabbed the knife off the cushions and set it aside on an end table, spreading his legs slightly. He gave the man a wicked smirk, crooking his finger for Michael to come towards him. "I'd rather not risk it…"

Michael laughed lightly, moving to stand up in front of him. "Wimp." He murmured playfully, tugging his fingers into the man's hair roughly. He leaned closer, darting his tongue out to lick at the shell of the man's ear. "How do you want me?" He huffed out huskily, hand trailing down across Ryan's chest, letting his nails scratch at the man's skin.

Ryan let out a low, primal sound, resisting the urge to pull Michael on top of him. "Any way you want…" he murmured, reaching one hand to snake around to the back of the man's neck and twine into his hair, tugging slightly.

Michael smirked moving on top of the man’s stomach easily. He reached in between them and gave Ryan's cock a few languid strokes, sliding his thumb across the tip. He could feel his blood sliding stickily between the two of them.

Ryan canted his hips up into Michael's hand, biting roughly at the man's neck. He soothed the flesh with a lick of his tongue, moving slightly lower to suck a hickey into the skin. Half of him wanted to lay Michael out flat on his back and taste every bit of him- every part of his form and every blood cell leaking from his wounds… The other half just wanted to fuck him until they both were a panting, sticky mess.

Michael moaned responsively, tilting his head to give Ryan more access to his neck. He twisted his hand as he stroked, making sure to tighten and loosen his fist repeatedly. He shifted his own hips slightly, the sudden realization that he was actually achingly hard.

"God… I want to fuck you," Ryan groaned, grinding his hips upwards more vigorously. He could feel Michael's blood on his torso, could feel the cuts on his hip with the hand not clutching the man's hair, and it was making him ache with arousal.

"Mmm, please do." Michael whined out, wiggling his ass down on the man's legs to prove his point. "Want you, Ryan..."

Ryan nearly growled, taking the man by the shoulders and flipping him so that Michael's back was flat on the couch and the older man was in between his legs. Ryan grabbed the lube, which had fallen in between the cushions, and poured some onto his fingers. He wasn't in the mood for teasing Michael, and he gently pushed one finger into the man, pumping it in and out as he leaned over, sucking at one of the cuts on Michael's chest and licking the blood of his lips.

Michael smirked when his back hit the couch, hips already wiggling in anticipation before Ryan even had the lube out. He flinched at the coldness of it, before moaning lewdly. His head fell back against the couch, fingers moving to grab Ryan's hair when he sucked against his wounds. "F-fuck.. Jesus, Ryan." It stung, but Ryan's mouth was warm and wet, and that was all he could focus on.

Ryan smirked and slid in a second finger, hand focusing on stretching the man more than pleasuring him. He continued to mouth at Michael's chest, however, making sure to run his tongue over every cut on the skin there. The ones on his hips were in too inconvenient of a spot for him to reach, so he settled for running his free hand over them instead.

Michael writhed underneath the attention, arching his chest into the man's mouth and tugging his hair in encouragement. He let one of his hands run across the back of his neck, massaging the skin there. "Shit... You're amazing... " Michael moaned out, teeth baring as he glanced down at the blue eyed man.

Ryan let his body go on autopilot as he contemplated the words, sliding a third finger into the man. He usually didn't get praised while having sex; if anything, it was his job to do the complementing. And yet, here Michael was, not begging him to fuck him, not reduced to a moaning mess, but praising him… Calling him amazing. And somehow it didn't feel like he was just saying he was a good lover, though that was clearly part of it. It was as if the man was calling Ryan himself amazing- as a person- and it threw him off in a way he couldn't describe, one that wasn't necessarily bad.

Michael groaned out, hips grinding down against him to speed up the process. He let out a few breathy whines, a silent declaration of readiness, furrowing his brow when the man didn't notice his cue. He wasn't positive Ryan was all there right now and he couldn't help assuming he'd done something wrong. He snapped his fingers in front of the man's face. "Ryan, you there?" He joked easily.

Ryan's eyes snapped up to meet the other man's at the sound, and he realized Michael was flushed and grinding against his fingers. "Sorry… Got carried away," he gave the man a crooked grin, hoping it covered his internal confusion; this was something to think on later. He removed his fingers from Michael, grabbing the condom and ripping open the package with his teeth. He rolled it onto himself, spreading the remainder of the lube on his cock and indulging in a few strokes.

Michael whined at the loss of the man's fingers, watching him impatiently. He stroked himself momentarily, just to lessen the pain a little. He looked at Ryan's hand for a moment, eyebrows raising slightly as he licked his lips. He moved a hand to the man's face. "As sexy as you are, I really need you in me. Like... Now."

Ryan chuckled, lining himself up with Michael's entrance and pushing in as slow as he could bare. He sucked at the cut on the man's sternum once more, distracting himself from the urge to go faster with the metallic taste of blood. "Fuck… you taste good."

Michael moaned out at the intrusion, it did sting a little and he knew he had Jackson to thank for that one, but never the less it felt /good/. He ran his hands along the man's back as he sucked at the cut, chest arching up into the man's mouth. "T-thanks. I think." He murmured, speeding his legs wider and wiggling his hips as he got used to Ryan inside of him.

A wicked smirk spread across Ryan's lips, and he let his eyes rake over the other man's body. A thoughtful expression crossed his face momentarily, but he was quick to wipe it away in favor of pulling out of Michael almost entirely before thrusting back in, setting a quick pace and nibbling at the man's neck.

Michael moaned at the pace, making sure to grind his hips down against him. "Ah... Ry, fuck..." He wound a leg around the man's back, hands scratching along his back as he tilted his neck to expose more of the flesh.

Ryan bit down on Michael's neck as gently as he could manage, lost in the hot tightness of the man. He wanted to drink Michael, to carve primal patterns onto his chest, to hear him scream- pleasure and pain and pure sensation. The last, perhaps, he could manage in his current, lust-filled haze. "Michael… Scream for me?" He didn't mean for it to be a question, but it came out as one.

Michael had to admit the request shocked him, he let out a small smirk; screaming was something that came easy to him. He'd done it ever since he was little, emotions being let out in his most therapeutic way. And hell, if that's what Ryan wanted he was happy to oblige. He brought his hand to Ryan's, coaxing him to dig his fingers into the covered bruises. Once he did, Michael let himself fall into the feelings of pleasure and pain, letting his head fall back. He cried out harshly, his already hoarse voice falling easily back into the routine of it. It wasn't as loud as he could go, of course, but his body tensed from the strength of it anyway.

Ryan briefly wondered if he'd get noise complaints in the morning, but the thought was swept away by the lovely noise coming from Michael's throat. He captured the man's lips with his own, practically drinking in the sound as he thrust his cock in and out of Michael. He reached down, stroking the younger man's cock quickly.

Michael kissed back.against him, only breaking away momentarily when Ryan's hand wrapped around him. He let out a cry that was somewhere between relief and agony before slamming his lips to Ryan's and biting the man's tongue. He bucked up into the strokes, fully aware he wasn't going to last much longer, and hopefully Ryan wasn't far behind.

 

Ryan made a small, surprised noise when Michael bit his tongue, unable to say anything with the muscle trapped momentarily between the man's teeth. It hurt, but it was rough and needy and Michael's blood was sticking to his chest and his cock was enveloped in tight heat and he was close to the edge. He quickened his movements, slamming his hips roughly into Michael's and thumbing the head of the man's cock.

Michael released the man's tongue to lick at the roof of his mouth instead, his eyes were closed tightly as his hips continued to grind up into the man's hand. He pulled away from the man's mouth to cry out loudly as he came, hips shuddering as he spilled across Ryan's hand. "Ah! Ryan!"

Michael clenching around him was all it took to send Ryan over the edge, kissing the man fiercely through the haze of his orgasm. He nearly collapsed against Michael's chest, feeling exhausted. It had to be nearly five in the morning, now, and he wanted to curl up and go to sleep.

Michael blinked away the aftershocks of relief, his body stung and pulled as sweat found it's way into his wounds.He ran a hand across Ryan's back, almost daring to call it a caress of sorts. He ran his other hand gently across the man's forehead, pushing back the hair softly. "Thank you."

Ryan looked up at him in sleepy surprise, raising his eyebrows. "For what?" He'd gotten to cut the man up and fuck him; it wasn't like he was doing Michael any favors. If anything, he maybe felt a bit selfish, but when had that stopped him from doing anything?

"You've spent the last hours taking care of me, just felt like you deserved a thank you." Michael murmured sleepily, carding his fingers through the older man's hair. He really hadn't expected all the compassion from Ryan, it was certainly different to say the least.

Ryan shrugged and let his eyes drift closed, pressing a kiss to whatever bit of skin was nearest to him. "That's what fuckbuddies do, I suppose. You're welcome." He should probably move back to the bed, pull out of Michael at the very least, but he was tired and the younger man was warm...

Michael knew he shouldn't have let the term sting as much as it did, fuck buddies didn't usually spend days at a time with each other... But if that's what Ryan wanted to call it. It wasn't like Michael would want it to be termed, he didn't do relationships so why did he even care? He yawned, moving his hands away from the man's body to rub at his eyes. The adrenaline was just starting to fade now, and he realized just how bad his covered bruises hurt.

Ryan sighed, gathering his strength and sitting up. He stood, taking off the condom and tying the end, and moved to the kitchen to toss it into the trash. He grabbed his tactical knife from the end table as he passed, gently rinsing it in the sink until the traces of Michael's blood still covering the blade were washed away; he'd clean it properly in the morning. Now, he just wanted to go to bed.

 

Michael stood up, granted a little shakily, he stretched his arms over his head, the cuts pulling a little as he did so. He grabbed his boxers off the ground before moving to the bathroom, he grabbed a random wash cloth and slid it under the sink before rubbing at his stomach to get the slightly dried cum off.

Ryan shuffled his way back towards the bedroom, not bothering to retrieve his boxers; Michael had seen it all before, anyways. He stopped at the bathroom, leaning in to give the man a brief kiss on the shoulder, "Need any help? We should probably put some bandages on those..."

"I like them." Michael mumbled lightly, setting the washcloth down and staring at himself in the mirror. He ran his fingertips across the one just below his collarbone. "Bandages mean we have to cover them up."

"It also means they won't get infected," Ryan pointed out. He loved the way Michael looked like this, but he also didn't really want to risk it. "We can uncover them later- just while you sleep. Sound good?" He wrapped his arms around the man, snuggling his head into Michael's shoulder.

"Yeah, alright." Michael muttered, moving a hand to pat at the man's head. He fell back into the embrace, yawn falling from his throat. Washing and bandaging seemed like a lot of work right now.

Ryan sighed in mock exasperation, giving Michael a small push towards the toilet. "Fine, I'll do it." He grabbed a roll of adhesive bandages and a box of butterfly band-aids, as well as some disinfectant from under the counter. He set them to the side, wetting down a washcloth and moving to gently wipe at the man's wounds, dipping his hand under Michael's boxers to clean the cuts on his hips.

Michael stared down at Ryan as he worked on his wounds. They stung, a lot, but he ignored it the best he could, only gritting his teeth. "He doesn't love me, does he?" His words were almost silent. Ryan didn't even love him, and he was here showing Michael more affection than Jackson ever had.

Ryan looked up from the man's chest, hands still working to cover the cuts with disinfectant cream that probably stung like a bitch. His brow was slightly furrowed in a sorrowful way, but there was no pity in his gaze. "No," there was no point sugar coating it, "He doesn't."

Michael nodded, the pain was a good distraction anyway. It wasn't as if he hadn't expected the answer, it was just more proof that he was impossible to love. There was Geoff, of course... But he wasn't so sure he believed that Geoff was truthful. He gripped at Ryan's shoulder, wincing from the stinging along his cuts.

 

Ryan set aside the disinfectant, unsure whether or not he should close the cuts with a butterfly band-aid, or simply cover them. He examined both the box and roll of pink, adhesive bandages, holding them up before Michael and raising an eyebrow. "Which one?" He set aside his other questions for this, more pressing, matter.

Michael pointed to the adhesive ones, he didn't so much as crack a smile at Ryan. He just sat there patiently, no tears, no breakdowns, just silence. Inwardly, he felt blank, almost as if nothing mattered to him at all.

Ryan nodded, unrolling a long strip and laying it down on the cut below Michael's collar bone, tearing the end off with his teeth. He gently worked to cover the other wounds, not looking up when he asked the question, "What about you?"

Michael furrowed his brow, staring down at Ryan questioningly. "What about me?" He wasn't quite sure what Ryan was asking. He rubbed his hand across his face, he really just wanted to try to get some sleep, or be alone, or something.

"Do you love him?" He couldn't imagine that was the case, after all that Jackson had done to him, but the heart was an odd thing. His father had always sworn his mother was only doing what was best for them, no matter how many times she screamed and hit him. He'd claimed he was the man of the house, that he just had to take it because Ryan's mother was emotional… Honestly, the older man thought he'd believed that even when she'd run him through with a kitchen knife.

"I don't know." Michael shrugged, it didn't matter either way. He didn't think he was even capable of love at this point, could you even give something you never got?

"Might want to figure that out," Ryan murmured, though he was one to talk. He finished bandaging the cuts on Michael's chest, crouching and tugging down the man's boxers so that he could lay lines of adhesive tape over the wounds on the man's hips.

"Does it matter? You banned me from seeing him, remember?" Michael hissed out, it wasn't fair, Ryan didn't get to play the high and mighty card. He winced when the adhesive tape touched his hips.

"I don't want to pull some zen crap on you, but I will if I have to," Ryan said, looking up at the man cooly. "'Self-reflection is the first step towards understanding,' and all that." He finished bandaging Michael's hips, not bothering to move from his crouched position on the bathroom floor.

"Just go to bed." Michael grumbled at him, he didn't want to self reflect because he didn't want to cry, he'd cried too much in the last few days and now he just wanted to space out and not feel anything.

Ryan stood, holding out his hands for Michael to pull himself up, "Come with me."

Michael shook his head, gnawing on his lower lip and looking the other way. He really wasn't even tired anymore and he was pretty sure the pills were still in the bathroom somewhere.

Ryan rolled his eyes, but nodded. "Fine… But I have to take a piss, so get off the toilet." He didn't really, but his jeans from earlier were shoved into the corner of the bathroom and he really wanted to flush the pills in his pocket before Michael managed to find them.

Michael nodded, moving to stand up and push past Ryan, he walked over to the sink and turned it on. He splashed his face a few times, enjoying the cold rush of water.

Ryan flipped open the lid of the toilet, glancing over at Michael. It didn't look like the younger man was going to leave anytime soon, so he took a quick piss before digging through the pocket of the jeans on the floor, pulling out the handful of pills as fast as he could, ready to flush them before the man noticed.

Michael furrowed his eyebrows when he saw the man crouching and fiddling with the pocket of his jeans. "What're you doing?" Michael questioned, though he was pretty sure he knew. He tried to reach out a hand to grab Ryan's wrist.

Ryan cursed under his breath, turning around slowly and tugging his wrist from Michael's grip. "Flushing these. You don't need them."

"I thought you said I could take them if I wanted." Michael growled out, moving around him to hit the toilet seat down. He could feel the anger hitting his gut, he felt constricted and like he was being babysat. It was an awful feeling.

Ryan closed his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. "Fine… Take one," he opened his hand, holding out the pills with a deeply disapproving glare. That was before he'd known Michael was an addict, but he didn't really want to go back on his word.

Michael glared back, reaching forward and grabbing the handful. He turned around, opening one of Ryan's drawers and tossing them into the corner of it. "We don't flush them." Michael demanded, slamming the door shut and storming out of the bathroom.

Ryan rubbed a hand over his face; it was too early for this shit. He grabbed his phone from the jeans on the floor and shuffled tiredly to the bedroom, suppressing a yawn and pulling on a fresh pair of boxers. He fell into bed with a sigh, shooting off a quick text to Ray saying that he might want to come over sometime today- not mentioning the fact that he wasn't quite sure why refusing the man had become so difficult. He snuggled into his sheets with a sigh, letting his eyes drift closed. He hoped Michael didn't find where he'd hidden the key.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of update on Sunday, I got hit with a really bad cold and I didn't have the energy to upload a new chapter. Hope the length of it makes up for it. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, as always, let us know what you thought!


	30. Chapter 30

Michael grabbed a fresh bottle of water, chugging down most of it before tossing it in the trash. He moved to sit on the couch, turning on the tv and grabbing a pillow. He flipped it over to cartoons and cuddled around the pillow. It soothed him, the calming quietness of the tv and their cheery voices. He zoned out, not wanting to fall back into the confines of his nightmares.

It was 9 in the morning by the time Geoff opened his eyes, relieved to find the pain in his stomach gone. He'd had horrible diarrhea and thrown up whatever liquid he'd drank, but now he was feeling as fresh and well-rested as a dude who's stomach had rebelled against him could. He took a quick shower before sauntering into the living room, making a face when he noticed Michael's absence. He picked his phone up from the coffee table, dialing the man's number and putting the device to his ear as he went about making coffee.

The sound of Michael's melodic ringtone broke through his trance, his body felt stiff and sore and his cheeks were wet from the tears he hadn't noticed. He scrambled off the couch, reaching his hand into the pocket of his sweats and noticing the familiar number. Shit, Geoff was gonna be upset. He clicked the green answer button and set it to his ear. "Hello?

"Hey, buddy," Geoff grinned, warmth flooding over at the familiar voice. "I'm officially 100% healthy, except for probably my liver, so it's safe for you to come over again." He set about making himself a plate of eggs, waiting for his coffee to finish so he could put a soothing shot of vodka in it.

Michael furrowed his brows as he sat back on the couch, part of him wanted to see Geoff... But then again he knew that probably wasn't the best option given his frame of mind. "I...Uh- I can't."

Geoff stopped mid-motion before realizing he'd probably end up with a rock-hard mass rather than scrambled eggs if he didn't stir them with the spatula sometime soon. "Dude. What's wrong?" He poked the eggs, worry evident on his features.

Michael grimaced at the question, he thought briefly of running into Ryan's room and asking him to help because he had no clue what to say; but he'd kept the man up most of the night and he really deserved some sort of sleep. "I'm fine, nothing's wrong. I'm just sick." He attempted an excuse, though it probably fell short.

"Uh huh," Geoff murmured disbelievingly, "I've known you for how long now, Michael- five years? Six? I can generally tell when something you say is complete and utter bullshit."

"I'm glad you're better." Michael changed the subject, hoping he wouldn't ask anymore because honestly Michael just wanted to not think about it again. He'd had to do enough explaining for one lifetime.

"No, uh-uh. You are not changing the fucking subject, Michael. What the hell is up with you? Wait… Where are you?" He tried not to sound suspicious, even if he was, a little. Ryan was the type of fucker who could convince someone to follow him home in a heartbeat, and they usually ended up with a knife in the back- literally, in some cases.

Michael tried not to panic, tried to steady his breathing and calm down just a little. Geoff would be so angry at him if he told him he was at Ryan's and he really wasn't ready for it, not now. He wished Ray had called Geoff, told him about it all so that he wouldn't have to. "I uh, I'm at Ryan's but it's really...really not what you think." /Okay, it's a lot of what you think/ "Ray didn't call you?"

"No…" Geoff said icily. At least he didn't think so, but it's possible he'd been so focused on calling Michael he hadn't noticed the missed call alert. "What's going on, Michael?"

Michael bit at his lip, standing up and pacing for a few moments. /Well, my ex came back and I let him fuck me and use me, and I was totally great at being his good little whore till he left me to teach me a lesson. oh and he gave me drugs, and I still want more of them./ How did you just come out and say that. Then there was the fact that he was pretty sure Geoff didn't care anyway, at all.. "I can't tell you."

"… Did he fucking hurt you?" Geoff was entirely unfocused on his eggs now, and they were slowly burning; a rubbery, smokey smell invaded his nostrils. "Please, give me something here." His voice cracked as he tried to mask his slowly building rage. First Jackson Reed, and now this?

"Who, Ryan? N-no, not at all. It's not him..." Michael bit at his lip harshly, wandering into the hallway of Ryan's house and moving to poke his head in the door. He glanced at the sleeping man before climbing over to the bed and sitting down; he really didn't want to wake him up but he needed support...

Ryan unconsciously shifted towards the warmth in his sleep, snoring softly. Meanwhile, Geoff scraped his burnt eggs into the trash and began pouring himself a cup of coffee. "I swear to God… Michael, if you don't fucking explain this to me, or get Ray or someone to do it, I am going to come over there myself."

Michael tried to carefully place his and Ryan's hands together, hoping he didn't make the man stir too much. "I don't know where to start." He murmured, Geoff's tone was already starting to send shivers up his spine and he hadn't even told him anything yet. "I'm trying..."

Geoff sighed, running a hand through his hair and pouring slightly more than a shot of vodka into his mug. "Sorry... I haven't had my coffee yet," he murmured. Dealing with Michael practically gave him whiplash sometimes, with the way things could go from absolutely wonderful to terribly fucked in the span of a few hours.

"You remember me telling you about my ex?" He questioned quietly, still wary of the man sleeping next to him. He had to remind himself that it wasn't like Geoff wouldn't find out, he'd call Ray if Michael didn't tell him.. Or maybe even Ryan; or he'd just show up himself, either way he'd know so it was just better if Michael did it himself.

"Yeah?" Geoff questioned warily. Did Michael know he'd put a hit out on the man? He hadn't even gotten any results yet...

"Well... he showed up, said something about someone trying to get him killed or something. Thought it was my fault..I don't know." Michael murmured, eyes closing in remembrance; it'd really been a rough 24 hours he had to spend with the man. "He was worse than I told you, I think.. Anyway, he left, and Ryan called and he-he knew something was up...so he came over, and Ray ended up coming over and they made me leave-.." He cut himself off, already wiping the tears from his eyes.

Geoff felt his eyes widen and his stomach dropped to his shoes… Oh no. Oh God no. He took a large swig of his coffee before deciding that it wasn't strong enough and taking a drink straight from the vodka bottle. "Michael… Oh my God, Michael, I'm so sorry…" he whispered into the phone, too shocked and guilty to even cry. What had he done?

"Wait, why are you sorry?" Michael demanded, that didn't make sense. Geoff didn't even know what all Jackson had done to him, he never told him, he couldn't possibly know... Ray was the only one who knew-well Ray and now Ryan, but- He paused. "Please tell me it's not what I'm thinking..."

"I'm so, so sorry…" What the fuck had he done? What had he done? Fuck… His voice was trembling a little and he felt a single tear slip down his cheek. He'd fucked up… He took another drink, hoping the alcohol would ease the pain as it always had before.

"You put out the hit? How the fuck did you even find anything out?-Wait, that's what... that's what you were talking to Ray about wasn't it?" Michael could feel his anger flooding through as he pieced everything together. "How much do you know? Was this before or after I spilled my heart to you?"

Geoff wanted to disappear, just fucking crumple up and blow away. He gulped, wiping his face with the back of his palm; this was no time to be a fucking pussy. "I don't- Not everything… Just that things were really fucking bad. And you wouldn't tell me anything, and it was fucking Gavin's idea in the first place," he was rambling, he knew, "God… I didn't know that this would happen."

Michael felt like he wanted to throw up, the betrayal hit hard. They'd invaded his privacy, they'd invaded his mind and figured out the things he obviously didn't want to tell them... who did that? "What was on Gavin's computer?" He hissed out, clutching onto Ryan's arm tighter. He seriously couldn't believe this was happening to him.. as if he needed any more shit this week.

 

"Files…" Geoff whispered. He was in deep shit and he knew it; his guilt was evident in his voice. "Just files… I don't know what they said; I didn't look at them. Gav did." He looked down at the floor… Fuck, his knees were trembling. He needed a drink. He needed 10 drinks. He settled for chugging from the vodka bottle.

"And Ray told you...?" Michael demanded, he felt like he might actually break the phone from how hard he was clutching it. He wasn't sure who he was more upset with, if it was Geoff, or Gavin, or even Ray... he thought he'd equally divide his anger among the three of them. There was plenty of it to go around at this point. He swallowed, jaw tensing before he hissed out. "I can't fucking believe you.."

"Ray didn't- God, I fucking tricked him. I'm such a prick… I'm a fucking asshole." And there went the tears again, God damn it. He hoped Michael couldn't hear them, even if his voice was cracking and shaky as fuck. "I'm so sorry, Michael…"

Ryan stirred; his hand felt like it was trapped in a vise. He opened his eyes, trying to pull away from the grip instinctively, before notching it was Michael. He furrowed his brow. What was going on?

"Stop fucking apologizing!" Michael seethed out, shaking his head furiously despite the fact that Geoff couldn't see it. He glanced over at Ryan apologetically, releasing his grip from his arm and moving it to wrap protectively around himself. "Do you know the kind of shit I've gone through in the last day? And now you're telling me it was your fault because you couldn't keep your fucking nose out of my business? You think you can fucking fix that with an apology? Seriously?!"

"I didn't think this would happen!" Geoff yelled, though he knew defending himself was fucking useless. Then Ryan was prying the phone gently out of Michael's hands and holding it up to his ear. 

"Geoff. Calm down," his voice was ice cold and authoritative enough that the tattooed man actually did stop blubbering into the phone, taking a deep breath and a drink.

Michael glared at Ryan incredulously, his hands had long since started shaking and his teeth were bared as he moved to punch at Ryan's chest, trying to scramble forward to grab the phone. "It's his fault! The entire thing is his fucking fault!" The frustrated tears were falling across his cheeks, and he was acting completely on impulse. He'd spent the entire time thinking the Jackson thing was his fault, he'd done something wrong; but now he finally had someone else to blame and he was glad to have a place to fuel his emotions.

"Yes, Geoff's an asshole, I agree," Ryan said calmly, wrapping an arm around Michael both to comfort the man and hold him in place. The tattooed man cringed at the words, but said nothing. There was nothing he could say- even if Ryan the fucking /psychopath/ was the one judging his character. "He invaded your privacy, but this isn't his fault; it's Jackson's."

Michael struggled against Ryan's arm, he really wasn't in the mood to listen to reason he was in the mood to kick and scream and punch the shit out of Geoff. It was sick, he knew that, but he didn't want to be mad at Jackson, he wanted to be mad at Geoff. Michael moved his hands to wipe away the tears flooding across his face before letting out a frustrated yell; only feeling slightly bad for Ryan's ears.

Ryan winced, but did nothing except place a placating kiss to the top of the man's head. When Michael's screams quieted, he turned his attention to Geoff, still sniffling softly at the other end of the line. "You fucked up, Geoff."

"Yeah… Yeah, I fucking know," the tattooed man murmured, wiping at his eyes once more. He couldn't continue sniveling like this.

"Good. Now here's what I want you to do: I want you to get off your ass, get sober, and expend every resource you have to hunt this bastard down… and bring him to me," Ryan commanded, his voice devoid of emotion, except for a wicked twist of happiness at the end. "Well, not directly to me," he amended after a moment, "To a warehouse; inconspicuous and abandoned. Get someone to guard him, tie him up- maybe bring a table or something. Then call me."

Michael let himself collapse against Ryan's chest after he stopped yelling, hands clinging to the man's skin as if he might suddenly disappear. He listened to the conversation but didn't pay much attention to it, he knew Ryan wanted the man dead and knew that was exactly what was going to happen. He didn't mind as much as he probably should've, especially now when his mind was plagued with Geoff's betrayal. He sniffled harshly, but keeping quiet for the most part; allowing Ryan to continue his conversation.

Geoff nodded slowly, "One condition, though… I get to watch."

Ryan felt a wicked grin lift the corners of his mouth, "Deal." He hung up the phone without a second thought, placing it down on the bed and stroking his hands over Michael's back. "How are you doing?"

Michael sniffled again, but didn't make any move to answer. His head hurt and he hated Geoff with every fiber of his being right now, but he didn't want to announce either one. He felt invaded, and vulnerable, that was four people who knew exactly what his life had been like and that left him feeling insecure. At the orphanage, kids never used it against each other because it was always retorted with their own demons, you never told someone their parents didn't love them because they could turn it back with an equally intense 'yeah, well at least they didn't ignore me'. But that wasn't the way the world worked, school had taught him that. You guarded your stories because they left you open for torment.

 

Ryan sighed, pulling the younger man closer to him and laying back. Michael needed physical contact like he needed air, and when Gavin wasn't around to generally give him an overdose of it, he clutched at the closest security blanket he could find. At the moment, Ryan didn't mind being that person, even if it was a great deal of effort. The sex, if nothing else, was worth it… And that odd, fuzzy feeling that seemed to crop up occasionally.

Michael let out a shaky breath, fingers tiptoeing across the man's stomach and snuggling his face closer to his chest. Ryan was warm and comfortable, and the embrace was more than comforting. "I just...I don't understand how he could do that to me. I told him I wasn't ready to tell him.. he could've just left it at that, not tricked Ray for fuck's sake."

"Geoff doesn't like not knowing things. He likes being in control- not in the way I do. It's not about power; it's about doing what he thinks is best for you, no matter what YOU think what's best for you," Ryan murmured, stroking the man's hair. He had a deep understanding of their boss, possibly because he was generally a good judge of character and possibly because his parents- both of them- had been the same way.

"He's an asshole." Michael grumbled, but he listened to what the man was saying. He was right, he was pretty sure, but it bothered him never the less. "Sorry for waking you up, Ry." He spoke softly, nuzzling his face into the man's neck.

Ryan shrugged, "It's fine. It's not like me and sleep have a particularly stable relationship." His insomnia woke him in the middle of the night sometimes, tearing him from a dream to wander around his apartment until his brain stopped buzzing enough for him fall asleep again.

Michael yawned against him, he'd never gone to sleep last night, his body was way too full of adrenaline and emotions; and his wake up call hadn't exactly been great. "Still, it wasn't cool..I just, I didn't want to deal with it by myself."

Ryan nodded, shifting so that he could snuggle deeper into the sheets. "I get it; people can be comforting sometimes." Except when they weren't, which, the older man had found, was most of the time. "You're going to have to learn to deal with it yourself someday, though."

"I know, I'm working on it." He nodded against him, flipping around so that he could snuggle into the sheets as well, laying on his side instead of on top of Ryan this time. He tiptoed his fingers across the man's stomach, kissing lightly at the man's neck.

"Well, as long as you're working on it, I don't mind being your temporary crutch for now," he tilted his head, giving Michael easier access to the skin. “Mm. Besides, it has it’s perks,” he chuckled, shooting the man a wicked smirk.

Michael smiled back, mouthing his lips across the man's neck and shoulder, it was loving almost. As if he could thank Ryan with each of the kisses, as if this was enough to apologize for the amounts of baggage he had. He danced his fingertips across, memorizing the man's skin the best he could. His eyes were starting to close sleepily, the silk sheets felt too good against his skin.

Ryan untangled one arm from around Michael momentarily, checking his phone for any messages from Ray and making sure it wasn't on silent. He'd hate to miss Geoff's call once he found the bastard.

Ray had sent back a simple 'was planning on it, I'll be there around lunch.' Michael yawned, shifting slightly before feeling the realms of sleep start to take him. It was always easier to fall asleep with someone beside him, even if he knew they couldn't keep the nightmares at bay, there was something comforting about it.

 

Ryan awoke, feeling slightly more rested, to the distant sound of knocking. He gently disentangled himself from Michael, slipping into jeans and a tank before walking to the main room and opening the door with the key he'd set on top of the doorframe. It was times like these that he was very glad that he had jury-rigged to door to lock from both sides, even if he disliked trapping Michael.

Ray smiled in a friendly greeting, holding up the bags of five guys burgers. "I brought food." He smirked, pushing his way in the door and trying to locate a place to set the bag of food down. He found a place on the kitchen counter a moment later. "So, I re-visited the house; just to check to see if he came back yet. Looks like he decided he was gonna leave Michael for a while, ‘cause there wasn't any sign he so much as walked through the door."

Ryan nodded, "Or he's in hiding. Apparently he knows someone's after him, though I don't think he knows it's Geoff. Which, by the way, Michael found out about." The older man looked around his living room and grimaced: his coffee table was still clear of it's usual contents, and now there were blood stains in the wood that he didn't think he'd ever be able to get out. There were a couple on the couch too, though those might come out with some vigorous dry cleaning. It was rather obvious what had happened the night before, especially with Michael's clothes, along with his own, spread haphazardly around the room. Oh well… Once Ray saw the younger man, he'd probably have a few questions anyways.

"Oh fuck... Well, that sucks. How mad at him is he exactly?" Once the bags were set down he glanced around at the house, eyes widening in shock as he recalled some of his conversations with Michael in reference to Ryan. He'd said he liked blood... He raised his hands up. "I don't want to know."

Ryan snickered, grabbing a burger from one of the greasy paper bags and collapsed onto the couch. "I'd say- out of 10- an 8, 8.5. I took the phone from him before he and Geoff could get into a real argument... But it wasn't pretty."

 

“Well, that's not so bad." Ray nodded, grabbing one of the burgers as well and moving to sit criss cross on the floor. "How's he been in general? Did he sleep at all?"

Ryan sighed, making a face. "A little. I got him to eat half a sandwich and some chips around 3am; I think he had a nightmare. Then I went back to bed at 5. The Geoff thing happened about 3 or 4 hours ago, and we've been asleep since then."

Ray nodded, taking a bite of the burger and savoring the greasy taste of it. "Hm, well that's better than nothing. I've literally seen him spend eight hours straight doing nothing but screaming and crying, so I'd say that he's farring pretty well, given the circumstances." He looked seriously at Ryan for a moment. "I know it's not easy, if.. you need a break or something." He knew how difficult Michael could be, especially this Michael.. It wore down people a lot, hell it wore Michael down a lot.

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Generally, I only do that if I'm extremely angry. And in that case, I break people," he grinned wickedly, taking a bite out of his burger. "Ray, I'm comforting a friend and also having fantastic sex. I'm fine." He'd dealt with worse.

Ray nodded, "Alright, alright. Just making sure." He took another bite of his burger, backing down from pestering him. Ray sat in silence for a few moments only flicking his gaze to the hallway when Michael scrambled back from out of it; chest rising and falling heavily as he panted.   
Michael had seen him, he'd been in the corner of his room when his eyes opened due to the voices out in the living room. He could feel the panic rising as he kept his gaze on the hallway, half expecting the man to run after him. Ray immediately sighed, these were always some of the most difficult.

Ryan's eyes flicked from Ray to the doorway and he raised an eyebrow, "Do you want me to go get him? I should probably change his bandages anyways…" He really didn't want the man to get an infection just because he'd had a little too much fun with his knife.

"Go for it." Ray nodded, taking another bite of his burger. Ryan seemed to be doing fine with the man and honestly, he was glad for the break. Ray had been on Michael watch for almost eight years now and it was exhausting to say the least. Michael slid to the floor easily when he swore he saw the man coming towards him, he burrowed his head in his knees; gripping his fingers into his curls. "Ple-please don't..."

"Don't what?" Ryan asked, crouching beside the younger man, "Don't change your bandages? Because I don't think that's going to turn out so well. Plus, you said you liked them," he trailed his fingers up Michael's arm soothingly, a steady rhythm of contact to ground the man. “And Ray brought burgers. You've got to be hungry by now."

 

Michael's eyes flashed up to Ryan's, brown eyes meeting the icy blue ones. He'd barely heard what Ryan had said, but that didn't matter all that mattered was it was Ryan and he was here, in Ryan's apartment. He moved from his curled position to wind his arms around the man's neck. His breathing was already steadying and his hands were only slightly shaking as he tugged them into the man's hair.

Ryan chuckled softly, pressing a quick kiss to the man's lips. "Come on, I can grab the bandages from the bathroom and then I can patch you up on the couch, okay?" And hopefully the enticing smell of greasy french fries and cheap burgers would encourage the man to actually eat something. He stood, pulling Michael up with him.

Michael got to his feet, albeit a little shakily, but never the less he moved to his feet. He gripped onto Ryan's arm tightly, letting him lead them into the bathroom. "Though- thought I saw him when I woke up." He muttered quietly, moving to rub at his eyes.

"You didn't. He can't get you, alright? I won't let him," Ryan's voice was steely, even if his touch was light. He grabbed a washcloth, dampened it, and held out the roll of adhesive tape for Michael to take, guiding them back to the living room with his arm around the man's shoulders.

Michael gripped the tape tightly, offering a small smile to Ray as he sat down on the couch. "Hey." He greeted easily. Ray sighed, reaching forward to pat at his shoulder. "Sorry about telling Geoff." He said simply, face apologetic. 

Michael shrugged his shoulders. "He said he tricked you, so. Not your fault." His head was still reeling slightly from the fear in the pit of his stomach earlier, but Ryan's words were calming and it was almost weird how he wasn't letting him dwell on the fear. He didn't ask questions, didn't demand Michael know anything about it. It was nice.

Ryan sat down next to the younger man, not speaking as he slowly peeled the bandage of Michael's sternum and balled it up, tossing it onto the coffee table carelessly. He started in on the other pieces of tape, selfishly wanting to see all the cuts before he had to cover them back up again. The man was art...

Michael winced at the removal of the tape, moving to gnaw on his lip. His wounds were pulling all over the place this morning, his skin catching on things and tugging the rapidly forming scabs. He eyed Ray who seemed to be trying to look away, though he did offer a knowing smirk to Michael who rolled his eyes in response. "Gavin called." Ray muttered. "I think he's too chicken shit to call you, but he wanted to know what was going on. He's read the files but he doesn't know much in reference to Jackson...Geoff won't tell him anything." Michael grimaced, eyes harsh as he stared up at Ray. "Oh sure, you know, he just knows all of my therapy notes and all of my foster homes. Great."

 

Ryan carefully peeled away the bandages on Michael's hips, frowning when he realized he'd have to pull down the man's boxers to get at the rest of them. He turned to Ray, "Unless you either want to see Michael's dick, or my knife work, I suggest you turn around." He honestly wasn't a shy person, but not everybody was like him… There'd probably be a lot more murders if they were.

"Yep. Gotcha. Say no more." Ray nodded before shifting his body around, choosing to instead focus on eating the rest of his burger. Michael laughed lightly, poking his finger at Ryan's cheek as he yawned. He wasn't necessarily shy about his body, but he didn't really like to go showing it off. "You guys seem like the type that'd be into sounding." Ray commented easily, Michael's eyes went wide at that, staring incredulously at Ray's back. "Fuck no."

"… Okay, for once I cannot say I know what that is," Ryan commented dryly, pulling Michael's boxers down just enough so that he could get to the bandages. He peeled them off, humming approvingly at how evenly they'd ended up healing. He shifted over to the other side, careful of the hand-shaped bruise on the man's hip. He wasn't an extremely kinky guy, but his partners tended to be just as open to exploration as he was.

"It's where you stick a metal stick up your penis, basically." Ray informed him, chuckling before he took another bite of his burger.

Michael grimaced. "Which should never be a thing, ever, that's gotta fucking hurt, right? Like seriously hurt?" He shook his head in confusion. 

"Worse than being sliced up?" Ray shrugged back, around a mouthful of food. 

"I mean, I would imagine so..?" Michael seemed hesitant. 

Ryan made a face, grimacing at the image. "Well, if you wanted to try it, Michael, I wouldn't say no… But that does not sound pleasant. I'd rather stick to cutting pretty patterns in your skin." He dabbed at the man's wounds with the washcloth before beginning the process of bandaging them once more.

Michael laughed, shaking his head. "What about you Ray, have you done it?" Michael joked easily, wincing at the touch of the washcloth. Ray swallowed down his mouthful of food. "Hell no. I wouldn't either, there's too much risk like what if they had a muscle spasm? Ouch." 

Michael cracked up at that. "A muscle spasm? How- jesus christ, how do you even explain that to a doctor?"

Ryan finished bandaging the cuts covering Michael's bruises, pulling them back up over the man's hips and snapping the elastic good-naturedly. "Has Ray even had sex?" he joked, though he was genuinely curious. As much as Ray joked, Ryan had never seen him with anyone. Not that they'd ever seen /him/ with anyone before Michael, but he was also a 33 year old man.

Ray turned around at the sound of elastic snapping, peeking hesitantly before turning fully around. He balled up the wrapper of the burger, shrugging his shoulders in response to Ryan. "Nope, total virgin." He commented and Michael laughed. The humour was dry, and he knew Ryan wouldn't be able to tell if he was lying or not. Michael ran a hand across his face, covering his tired yawn. He'd had a decently restless night, and though he wasn't planning on sleeping anytime soon; he was definitely feeling the after affects of it.

Ryan chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows, "I'll cure you of that… Or I would, if I found you remotely sexually attractive." He gave Ray a wry smirk, before returning to the task of bandaging Michael. The other man wasn't bad looking, but that didn't mean much when it came to Ryan's sexuality. He'd thought he was broken for /years/ before he'd actually explored his options and realized that, mostly, he was just picky.

"Ouch, that hurts." Ray mock-held his heart, making a sad face. Though his grin fell back on quickly, he definitely did not work well into Ryan's kinks, to say the least. Michael zoned away from the conversation a little bit, eyes focusing instead on the blank TV. Mostly, he was thinking about Jackson, and the fact that they were planning his death, it almost left a bitter taste in his mouth. Jackson had always been there ultimately, it was always an option, to go back. Now it wasn't going to be an option, and what was he supposed to do when the gang undoubtedly left him eventually?

"Mm, how about you get my serving boy a burger, peasant, and maybe you'll get into my good graces," Ryan smirked, finishing bandaging Michael and pressing a quick kiss to his forehead before stretching out, laying his feet in the younger man's lap.

"Of course, Mad King." Ray chuckled, standing up and giving him a bow. It was a code name at some point when Gavin deemed them all "royals" at a heist planning. He walked into the kitchen, digging his hand into the bag and grabbing a burger out for Michael. He grabbed the Dr.Pepper he'd gotten for him as well. Ray walked back to the living room, setting the soda on the table before dropping the burger on top of Ryan's feet. He sat back down, resting his elbows on his knees. Michael grimaced down at the burger, grabbing it and setting it on the coffee table.

Ryan shot him a withering glare, picking the bag back up and shoving the bag firmly into the man's hands. "Michael… It's a burger and fries, for Christ's sake. Eat them." He snatched his own burger up from the coffee table and bit into it, giving the younger man a look the /dared/ him to argue.

Michael measured the man's glare, shaking his head and setting the bag back down. "No." He growled back, eyes widening when he realized just where Ryan's feet were, recalling when Jackson had kneed him when he disobeyed. He shoved his feet away, biting at his lip harshly. Ray looked between the two, whereas Michael needed to eat... Ryan already had him acting defiant, and cursing. It was pretty fast progress.. And he was impressed to say the least.

Ryan moved his feet, understanding the unpleasantness that human touch could sometimes bring, but didn't back down. "Why? Because I know for a fact that you like burgers," he challenged, trying to get Michael to say /exactly/ what Jackson had convinced him of, so that Ryan could dismantle it piece by piece.

Michael didn't want to feel like an insecure teenager, didn't want to tell them he felt fat because it sounded too pathetic, even for him. "I-I've filled out, okay? I've 'let myself go' and I need to slim down, at least a little bit." He turned his attention away from the two of them, eyes staring blankly at the TV. 

Ray was in shock, not because he was shocked that Michael felt like he was fat, but Michael just admitted that, in front of two pairs of ears... He gaped at Ryan, mouthing a quick "how did you do that?"

Ryan raised an eyebrow, giving Ray a half shrug, before turning his attention back to Michael. “No. You look gorgeous, and even if you did want to slim down- for /you/, not for that sick fuck- starving yourself is not the way to go about it." He took the man's chin in hand lightly, pressing a kiss to his lips that tasted like grease, and cheese, and slightly overdone- but still delicious- meat.

Michael flushed visibly at the attention, but he kissed back lightly anyway, he was really... Really hungry. Ray had amazing timing to drop the bag back on his lap when Ryan pulled away. He sighed audibly but grabbed a handful of fries and stuck them in his mouth. He savored the delicious oily mess for a moment before grabbing out the burger and unwrapping it. "Fine."

Ryan grinned, taking a bite of his own burger in satisfaction. Honestly, if Michael had kept refusing food, he might have been tempted to pull the same stunt he'd pulled in the shower yesterday. And he didn't think that Ray wanted to see the older man blow and fondle his best friend, even if Ryan didn't care. Audience or no audience, it was all the same to him.

Michael took a few bites of his own burger greedily, before chugging it down with a few sips of soda. Ray smiled, at least Michael wouldn't pass out on them anytime soon.

Ryan finished the last bite of his burger, standing up and giving Michael a light kiss on the top of the head before heading to the kitchen. He threw away the grease-soaked paper and turned on his sink, waiting for the water to heat as he grabbed the tactical knife he'd used on Michael not 12 hours before. It looked clean of blood, but he'd rather not take chances with his weaponry.

Michael turned on the TV before Ray demanded questions of him. He could tell he was itching to ask, so he turned the volume up on adventure time. He'd eaten enough to make himself feel slightly sick, so he quickly tossed the burger in the bag and curled up on the couch. Ray scrolled through his google search, he'd been trying to find out all the details he could about Jackson but damn that asshole was good at laying low.

Ryan scrubbed the blade gently with hot water and soap, rinsing it and leaving it to dry. He walked up behind the couch, leaning in to rest his head onto of Michael's, stroking the man's shoulders absently and looking down at Ray. he probably wanted to talk to the older man.

Ray ran a hand through his hair absentmindedly before glancing up at Ryan, he tilted his head curiously. "So who are we leaving him with when we find Jackson?" Ray wasn't about to sit around and babysit Michael during it, he'd had to sit through years of breakdowns because of that fucker. He wanted to at least see a body, even if Ryan didn't let him watch. Michael had long since tuned them out, even if Ray wanted to talk he definitely wasn't in the mood.

Ryan's eyes flicked from Michael's blank gaze, to Ray's curious one. "Do we have to leave him with anyone? He's not a child, Ray, and Jackson’s what we really have to worry about here.” His fingers twitched reflexively, as if he had his hands around the bastard’s throat.

"I'm not worried about anything but him taking the drugs... That's all." It was a worthy fear too, once he'd caught the man trying to down six in one go. "I'm not treating him like a child, I'm treating him like an addict who just had his high for the first time in months." Ray informed him easily, running a hand across his face. Michael let out a little yawn, head leaning back comfortably on top of Ryan's arms.

Ryan pressed his lips together in a thin line, glancing away from Ray to hide his guilty expression. They were still in his bathroom drawer… He should have flushed them when he'd gotten up to answer to door. But he didn't want to violate Michael's trust… He'd said he wouldn't.

Ray was honestly shocked Ryan hadn't gotten rid of them, he'd hoped he would've told him it wouldn't be a problem because he'd flushed them... But now it was clear he hadn't. "So, let's get rid of them.... " Ray said calmly.

Ryan pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Michael's head and pulled away, face going blank as he did so. Once they were secure in the relative shelter of the hallway, Ryan let out a sigh. "I told him I wouldn't…"

"Yeah, well that's fine. I'll do it, that way you're not breaking your word. Technically." Ray shrugged, waiting for Ryan to lead him to where it was. "Look, if we don't and we leave, he's gonna be alone in his thoughts and that's the first place he's going to go. Once an addict, always an addict. He'll have finished all of them before you get back and then he'll have too high of a dosage- and well, you know what happens then. So, for his own good, for his safety, we get rid of them."

Ryan's mouth twitched downwards at the words "for his own good," but he nodded. Just because Michael managed to scrape together some self control when he was around, didn't mean he wouldn't down the pills the moment the older man was out of sight. He motioned for Ray to follow him with a twitch of his fingers, walking into the bathroom and giving a slight jerk of his head towards the drawer. "In there."

Ray smiled up at him good naturedly, opening the drawer before grabbing at the pills in the corner. He opened the toilet easily and tossed them into it, flushing them down. "There, easy as that." Ray nodded.

Ryan rolled his eyes, "That's very easy to say when he's not looking up at you with doe eyes. Or when he's not telling you that he's a whore who'll blow you for a pat on the head and a cookie." He grimaced, feeling slightly uncomfortable echoing the words that are, undoubtedly, spoken by Jackson at some point.

"You're right, it is." Ray nodded, taking a breath. He didn't try to deny it, didn't ask any dumb questions that Ryan probably wouldn't know. "God I want that sack of shit dead." It was the truth too, Ray rarely felt any sort of absolute anger towards anyone, but this man had well deserved it.

"Well, I want to kill him, so it works out," Ryan murmured. Oh, did he have plans… He should probably bring along a pair of pliers to accompany his knives. Old fashioned tooth and nail pulling was something he hadn't done in awhile, and he was itching to hear the man scream. "You gonna watch? I know Geoff is… I'd like to know how big my audience is going to be."

"Yeah, honestly. I think I will." Ray nodded, eyes hardening subconsciously; he couldn't wait to see the fucker in pain. And knowing Ryan, he wouldn't disappoint.

"Wonderful," Ryan said in a businesslike manner, "In that case, I'd appreciate it if you could get me some pliers." His last pair had had to be left at a particularly gruesome crime scene when he realized that there was absolutely no way he was going to be able to get the remnants of his victim off of them.

"Sure." Ray nodded, though his mind was cringing. He'd been in the crime business long enough to know what pliers were usually used for. "Think Geoff'll catch him by tonight?"

Ryan shrugged, "If he doesn't, I've severely underestimated this organization." They were a gang; if they couldn't find one, lowly drug dealer, they really didn't deserve to be in control of the city.

"I'll head out and grab them now then." Ray offered, patting Ryan's shoulder as he began to walk back towards the main room. He glanced over at Michael's form, where the man was still staring mindlessly towards the TV. "Bye Michael!" He called, waving. 

Michael glanced over at him, muttering a quick 'bye.'

Ryan walked back into the living room easily, masking the traces of guilt he felt for letting Ray flush the pills. Still, he really didn't want Michael to OD just because of the few, pesky morals he'd retained. He sat down on the couch next to the man, throwing an arm over his shoulder to let Michael snuggle into his chest. "Want to talk about it?"

"No." Michael answered quietly, adjusting positions so that he could lay against Ryan's chest. He resisted the urge to crawl into the man's lap and fall asleep, instead trailing his hand across the man's thigh. He rethought his previous statement. "I'm just... I don't want him dead..."

"He deserves it," Ryan said flatly, afraid to put the slow, bubbling rage that grew with Michael's every twitch into his tone. Apparently, it scared people… There was something both primal and purposeful about the older man that made people avert their eyes on good days, and literally turn around and walk the other way on bad ones.

"I know... but he's the only family I've ever had." Michael muttered, giving up his resisting and moving to climb into the man's lap. He wound his arms around the man's neck and buried his face into his shoulder. "I feel like I'm betraying him."

"Michael…" Ryan sighed, rubbing the man's back gently, "He doesn't deserve your loyalty… He's toxic. And, while I have no qualms about killing him- believe me, I'll enjoy it- this isn't your finality. It's mine, it's Geoff's, it's Ray’s… It’s a way of making sure that your ghosts don’t come back to life. It won’t help you… And I’m sorry for that.” He pressed his lips to the top of Michael’s head, resting them there.

Michael closed his eyes, the contact was more than soothing and he could practically already feel his body slumping against Ryan's. He knew Ryan was right, where as it somewhat revolved around Michael this wasn't his battle. He nodded in understanding. "Yeah..okay."

"Who do you want to babysit you while we're gone?" Ryan asked, ruffling the man's curls teasingly, "I want to make sure you don't go ODing on ecstasy while I'm killing the man who got you addicted in the first place."

"No one, I won't do it." Michael murmured easily, yawn falling from his throat before he could stop it. He snuggled closer to Ryan's chest, hands winding into his hair and trailing across his scalp.

Ryan nodded doubtfully, about to ask if Michael was sure, when his phone rang. He quickly maneuvered the younger man off his lap, rushing to the bedroom and picking up the phone. "Hello?"

"It's Geoff. Some of my people managed to get the jump on him in the parking lot as he was getting in his van. They're taking him to a warehouse now."

Ryan didn't dare to get too excited just yet, but he felt his heart rate pick up. "Where?" Geoff rattled off an address, and the younger man ended the call with a "Meet you there in 10. Call Ray."

Michael let himself slump back against the couch, training his eyes to the TV and intentionally ignoring his surroundings. It was a coping mechanism of sorts, to just idly focus on something and pretend your mind isn't dancing around with thoughts and decisions and emotions. He didn't want the man to die, and all he could was the words 'we're family' running around in his head. It didn't matter, he wouldn't be able to stop them.

Ryan took a breath, calmly grabbing a duffel bag from the corner of his room and emptying it of its contents. He made sure to grab his switchblade from the bathroom, along with some painkillers and large bandages; he didn't want the man to die of blood loss or pass out until he was done. He walked back to the main room, grabbing his mask and the knives he'd laid out the night before, including the one he'd ended up using on Michael. It would be enough. He slid on a fresh pair of socks from the laundry and stuffed his feet into combat boot, making sure to shove a box of latex gloves and a cheap jacket into his bag before pressing a kiss to the top of Michael's head. "I'm going to go. Any requests?"

"Want my knife back." Michael muttered, hands reaching up to grab lightly at the man's face. "You'll come back, right?" He didn't want to sound like a child, he really didn't; but he couldn't help the fear of abandonment rising up in him. He hesitated a moment before tilting his head. "He keeps a razor blade in his back pocket in case he gets tied up..."

"Good to know," Ryan murmured, leaning in to give Michael a slow, gentle kiss. It was odd how comfortable he was getting with the domesticity and intimacy of their interactions; it probably had something to do with the man's constant need to be touched. "Of course I'll come back. I live here, after all," he pulled away, giving Michael a small smile.

Michael smiled back, a small laugh falling from his throat before he sat up slightly and wrapped an arm around Ryan's neck. He pulled their lips back together, other hand moving to hold his cheek as he kissed him. He pulled away a second later, slumping back down unto the couch and turning his attention back to the TV.

Ryan finished his keys out from on top of the door frame, sliding back the deadbolt and unlocking the door. "I'm not going to lock you in, but I'd really prefer it if you stayed," the older man said, shifting his duffel bag into a more comfortable position on his shoulder and checking that he had everything (Keys, phone, bag of deadly weapons- check).

Michael offered him a wave of his hand in response, before he snuggled further down into the couch and cuddling around a pillow; yawn falling from his throat. He was too tired to go anywhere, to say the least. The TV shows vivid colors were drying out his eyes and he was content to let them fall closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update, I had a bit of an emergency. (A trip to the ER, bedrest, it wasn't fun. but now I have limited mobility and are safe and sound in my room.) and your scheduled updates will return as normal. 
> 
> Thanks so much for all the kind words, next chapter is an intense one. As always, we love hearing from you. (Seriously, me and Cat talk about them so much, it's great.) 
> 
> I'll see you guys Wednesday, have a great day<3


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This is a torture chapter, it is descriptive, dark, bloody, and gory. There are many mentions of rape/pedophilia/abuse and other dark stuff. If you feel you cannot stomach it, you should be able to figure out what happened from the next chapter on Sunday.

The drive to the warehouse was longer than Ryan anticipated, and by the end of it he was feeling twitchy and excitable, though he knew that once he had a knife in his hand, all he would feel was calm. Being in control did that to you. He parked in the gravel drive leading up to the medium sized building- an old, crumbling thing that wasn't dangerous enough to the city to spend money on fixing or tearing down. Several other vehicles were there already, but Ryan recognized one of them as Geoff's and realized slightly. He cracked his neck, grabbing his duffel from the passenger's side and putting on his mask and jacket before stepping out of the car.

Ray was standing just inside of the building, eyeing the table and man. The table had the fresh pair of pliers sat on it, and the man looked like an asshole. He kept his grip on his gun tight, despite not needing it this very moment, it was a relaxing habit and not to mention it had the intimidating technique going on. He'd been lucky enough to have been just around the corner when Geoff called, quickly making his way over with a simple two minute drive. He felt ancy and a little on the nervous side, though his face only held a bored expression. He and Geoff had exchanged little words, mostly just the occasional look.

Geoff hadn't taken his eyes off the unconscious man on the table since he'd ordered his lackeys to leave, feeling the rage bubble up slowly inside of him as he thought of everything that asshole had done to Michael. He also began to feel a little sick; Ryan was coming, and with Ryan, there would be blood and gore and who knows what the hell else. The man deserved it, but it made Geoff's skin crawl.

Ryan pushed open the warehouse door, letting it slam shut behind him in a mockery of a grand entrance. When Geoff and Ray's heads whipped around to look at him, he simply waved with a comical wiggle of his fingers, setting down the duffel bag next to the man tied to the chair sitting next to the table he would no doubt be using. "This him?" Jackson Reed looked nothing like Ryan had expected: he was lean, but not gaunt, and his hair, while black, was clean cut and free of grease, dignified tinges of gray creeping up his sideburns. Even unconscious, there was a hint of charm to his features, and the masked man understood why Michael had gotten so easily attached.

Ray swallowed nervously as the man entered, he was once again immensely glad he was on the good side of Ryan and not the one strapped to a chair. He ran a shaky hand across his neck. "Yeah, that's him." Ray had seen pictures before, mostly from Michael's old phone. He hated the man with every fiber of his being.

Ryan crouched down, unzipping his bag and making a face. "Any more rope or paracord around? I knew I forgot something…" He pulled out his jacket, shrugging it on and picking up the box of latex gloves, setting it on the table and pulling on a pair with a satisfying snap. "If you're going to touch him, take a pair of those, and I recommend you stay back if you want to avoid getting blood on you." Geoff took a reflexive step backwards, deciding he most definitely didn't want to touch the bastard; Ryan would do well enough on his own.

Ray moved quickly to go find some rope to tie him with, luckily they always came prepared and one of Geoff's guys had brought it over. He walked forward only to hand the materials to Ryan, making sure to walk back a decent way. Ray was a hundred percent with Geoff on this one, he wouldn't touch him. He was only an observer.

Ryan thanked the younger man with a nod, setting the rope to the side and pulling out his switchblade; he wanted to start off small. He walked around to the back of the chair, carefully reaching into Jackson's back pocket and pulling out the razor. "One more thing, before I get started," he turned back to Geoff and Ray, "Did he have a knife with him- kind of old, semi-serrated, fixed blade? It's Michael's."

Ray furrowed his brows, he hadn't seen one. He glanced over to Geoff's, eyebrow raised as he waited for an answer from him. Geoff was the one that was here when he first got here, so he probably knew if they'd found one.

Geoff nodded shortly, "Yeah. He pulled it on one of my new boys- Kdin. Caleb said that he might lose an eye if we didn't take him to the hospital, so that's where they are now. I think Kdin wanted to keep the knife as a trophy; kid's weird like that."

Ryan cracked his neck, flicking open his switchblade and turning his attention the the man in the chair. "Well, we'll get it back later…" he said absently, crouching in front of Jackson. He looked over the man with a cool, calculating gaze before taking his chin in hand- a touch so light one might dare to call it a caress, if it weren't for the look in the masked man's eyes. He trailed the blade of his knife lightly over one cheekbone, contemplating where to begin.

Ray leant up against the wall, eyes watching the scene in front of him intensely. He could already feel the creeping adrenaline and he wasn't even near the two. It felt too eerily quiet in the building and he swore he could hear all four of them breathing. It was disturbing to say the least.

Ryan figured that he could go about this two ways: psychological, or vicious. In his experience, the first tended to be more effective taking out guilty bastards with something to hide, while the second wasn't as torturous, even if it was more brutal. He decided to at least try to fuck with the man's head before going to town, standing up and removing his mask, setting it carefully on the table. He took Jackson's face in hand, pressing a slow kiss to the man's lips and before pulling away. He resisted the urge to spit: Jackson Reed tasted like sweat, and blood, and something disgustingly bitter. The man's eyes fluttered open, and Ryan gazed down at him with a calm smile, "Hello, Jackson."

Ray's mouth fell open at the kiss, face squinting in confusion. He'd never exactly seen Ryan's tactics, but that didn't seem to be necessarily beneficial to the torture aspect. Though he kept quiet, Ryan was the professional after all, and Ray wasn't the type to intrude on someone's technique.

The man's eyes flicked back and forth, trying to take in his surroundings as best he could with the solid grip Ryan had on his chin. Finally, they settled back on the younger man, confusion, defiance, and a hint of fear etched on his features. "Yes, hi," Ryan grinned, holding up the hand gripping his switchblade and gave a small wave. Jackson's eyes widened, and he shifted in his seat as much as the ropes would let him. The man was digging in his back pocket, Ryan could tell, and he let out a small laugh, "Oh, dear. I've gotten you shaking already… Are you looking for your little toy? I had to take it away from you… knives are dangerous." The last phrase, an echo of Jackson's own words, had a hard edge to it, and Ryan tightened his grip on the man until it was almost bruisingly hard.

Ray listened intently to the words, glancing over at Geoff once before returning his attention back to them. It was eerie, but he was content to stare harshly at Jackson; the asshole had put Michael through hell and back, multiple times. This was exactly what he deserved, and it was almost too slow of a process.

Comprehension dawned in Jackson's eyes and he let out a low curse, "Motherfucker… I knew the little whore ratted me out." He barely had time to utter the words before he was being backhanded harshly across the face. The man spit blood to the side, giving Ryan a defiant glare. "So you're his new Daddy? Thought my baby boy had better taste…"

Ray grinded his teeth together, taking pride in Ryan's quick slap. He thought briefly he might want to rethink not doing something to him as well, it certainly seemed like Geoff looked like he wanted to punch him a few. Ray was sort of shocked at how quickly he went to vocalizing his feelings and thoughts, especially when Ryan obviously had the upper hand.

Instead of growing hard, Ryan's face split into a manic grin. "Oh, I'm nobody's "Daddy…" but if you want to play house, I wouldn't mind. How was your childhood, hmm? Did your father touch you? Your mother? Did they even /want/ you?" When Jackson's eyes grew cold, and he didn't respond, Ryan moved on, tracing the tip of his knife over the man's cheekbone idly, smiling serenely down at him. "My mother was a drunk… Drove a kitchen knife through my Daddy's stomach when I was 17. I returned the favor; so why don't we play house, hmm?"

Ray took a few breaths, thankful for his ability to mask his emotions well. The entire situation was immensely disturbing, and Ray had to admit he felt almost as if he was intruding on something very personal. It was almost amazing how Ryan had already found a way to shut the man up, and he was very very aware as to why Geoff had hired him in the first place. He'd never doubted the man's skills before, but seeing it was an entirely different level of talent. 

Jackson opened his mouth to retort, and instead got a mouthful of Ryan's fingers as the younger man moved to choke him with the hand holding his knife, the other stretching his lips to the side, out of the way of Jackson's teeth. "I need a hand," Ryan called out, not bothering to look back at his audience. Jackson's eye flickered to them for the first time, and he let out a retching sound when he tried to speak. Geoff took another step back, unable to tear his eyes away and unable to leave- for Michael's sake.

Ray made sure he glowered at Geoff, taking a breath and walking forward. He grabbed some of the gloves off of the table, slipping them easily over his palms despite his shaking hands. He gave himself a few seconds to calm down, cracking his neck and training his face into blankness. He waited for further instruction, really not wanting to get in the older man's way. 

Ryan gave Ray a slow grin, "Hold him down for me. By the throat, if you please." When the man complied, Ryan removed his own hand from around Jackson's throat, cutting a small slice into the corner of his mouth. He moved his fingers to the other side, his smile widening when Jackson let out a whimper, slicing another quarter-inch wound there. “Thank you, Ray. You can stop now.”

Ray grimaced, turning his face away when the man sliced at him. The moment he told him he could stop, he backed up willingly but stayed somewhat close in case Ryan needed him again. 

Ryan stepped back, surveying the frightened man with satisfaction: a Glasgow smile was a classic, and he couldn't wait to see what his knife work stretched into when Jackson screamed. "You know… I really hate rapists," he said conversationally, idly swirling his knife in his fingers. "There's really no excuse for a crime like that… But you just want it, don't you? Wanted someone to call you Daddy so bad you forced a kid to-" he made a face, snapping his fingers, "Details, Ray?" He stepped one foot onto the chair containing Jackson, forcing the man to spread his legs apart or risk getting his balls crushed.

Ray gaped slightly, trying to recall the information as he pondered the request. He was struck silent, embarrassingly quiet as he racked his brain for something. To be fair, he hadn't expected to even talk to the man let alone let him know what all he'd done. 

"Ray, please. Give me something to work with," Ryan's persona didn't even slip as he turned to give the younger man a disappointed look. "I may be judge, jury, and executioner, here, but you're my star witness." Jackson wriggled back in his chair, clearly disconcerted by the psychopath looming above him. Good.

Ray nodded, running a hand across his neck. "Well I mean there were those times he forced him to suck him off in the office, when he was barely seventeen." Ray crossed his hands over his chest, addressing the man himself now. "Or those times where you refused to let him eat till he let you fuck him." He moved to stare down at him harshly, fingertips piercing into his own skin as he spoke. "Or when you locked him in his room for seven days just because he didn't feel like calling you daddy right that moment." Ray growled out, cutting off the rest of his comments. /Oh, he had so much to say to this man./ but he felt like it was definitely better spoken with pain. 

 

Ryan let out a low sound that was somewhere between disapproval and threatening. "You just had to have your own, personal fucktoy, didn't you? Bet it made you hot, being in control like that. Made your cock hard every time you forced him to his knees. See, I like control too, Jackson… But I'm also not enough of animal that I don't get /consent/." He moved his foot forward, lifting it up and bringing it down hard on the man's junk. He let out a scream, and then another as the movement made the cuts at the corners of his mouth widen and begin to stretch upwards.

Ray couldn't help the light smirk that formed at the corner of his mouth as the man screamed. He could see why Ryan enjoyed it so much, though Ray was sure he probably wouldn't be enjoying it so much if it weren't someone who absolutely deserved it. 

"You see, I'm going to enjoy this," Ryan murmured, flicking his switchblade closed and bending down to grab one one of the larger knives from his bag. He cut open Jackson's shirt in a rough movement, the point of his blade nicking the skin as he did so. The man whimpered and Ryan smiled. "Partly because I'm a psychopath, but mostly because you hurt Michael. Not /my/ Michael, not someone I claim ownership of. I'm not defending my territory, oh no. I'm going to take you apart piece by piece until you're /begging/ me, and you won't be sure what for anymore. And do you know why?" The older man dared to shake his head, glaring. "It's because you took his life away from him. Fucked him in the ass and made him call you Daddy until he wasn't a person anymore. So now, you don't get to be one either."

Ray backed away again, making sure to give Ryan his room; knowing they'd probably be here for a while. He looked at Geoff for a moment, the man looked more like he wanted to leave than anything and at any other time Ray probably would've been right there with him. He turned his attention back towards the men, head tilting in disturbing curiosity.

Ryan chewed his lower lip in contemplation, before moving around to the back of the chair and putting Jackson in a chokehold. The man struggled momentarily, making panicked noises that were music to his ear, and then passed out. It only took a minute for Ryan to cut the ropes tying him up and move Jackson to the table with a soft grunt. He grabbed the extra Ray had found for him and used it to the the man's limbs to the table legs so that he lay on the surface spread eagled and bare chested. He glanced up at his audience before continuing, smirking at Geoff's queasy expression. "Enjoying the show?"

Ray chuckled lightly at the question, rubbing his hand across his forehead as he glanced at Geoff; seriously he thought the dude was gonna pass out, or something. "Maybe you should wait outside or something..." He offered calmly. Ray was pretty proud of himself for being as calm as he was, though he was pretty sure he'd have these images in his head for weeks. 

"No… No, I have to stay. For Michael," Geoff tried to look stoic, but the attempted failed when he swayed unsteadily. "Anyways, this is the only thing Ryan and I can agree on." He shot the man a small smile; he was Michael's friend, if nothing else, and the older man needed to get used to that. Plus, he was damn good at his job.

Ryan shrugged, but nodded slightly, before turning his attention back to Jackson. Trailing the cold blade of his Bowie knife over the man’s chest.

Ray turned his attention back to them as well, though he made sure to at least keep somewhat of an eye on Geoff in case he did manage to pass out. Who knew he had such an issue with gore? He furrowed his brow as he watched the scene, eyes cold and harsh as he waited patiently. 

Ryan decided to start with the arms, quickly swiping at the fleshier parts of the limb rather than any veins or arteries that might cause the man to bleed out. After the a few strokes of the knife, Jackson's eyes began to peel open and he led out a whimper. Ryan grinned brightly at him, moving from arms to chest and digging a deep gouge down the man's belly as Jackson screamed hoarsely, his bloody smile continuing to spread upwards. "You make such pretty noises, baby," the younger man mocked, though he wasn't sure how much Jackson could comprehend through the pain.

Ray cringed slightly, the entire scene was a pretty gruesome and to be honest he'd never really liked blood. He kept a wary glance to Geoff's pale face, who definitely looked worse off than he did. He tore his attention back when the man screamed, entirely pained and loud in his ears. 

Ryan continued to work the man over- both with quick, brutal cuts and slow slices in which the blade almost caressed the skin. Jackson continued to make harsh, pained noises, and part of Ryan wondered what was going through the man's mind. He paused, knife hovering above Jackson's crotch, skimming the denim teasingly. The man let out a desperate whimper and Ryan leaned over, a sanguine smile decorating his lips as he whispered, "Beg me."

Ray looked back over at Geoff and grimaced as he swayed on his feet, he let out a sigh before walking over to the wall and grabbing out a worn down chair. He lifted it up easily, setting it just behind Geoff and patting his shoulder. Just in case, Ray didn't want him falling and splitting his head open on the concrete flooring of the warehouse. 

Geoff collapsed into the chair grateful, continuing to watch the proceeding with a sick sort of fascination. He felt like he wanted to puke, but at the same time… /This/, this is what the bastard deserved. 

Jackson opened his gaping smile of a mouth, but only managed to cough, blood spewing over his lips. He was crying, choked sobs that rattled out of him in between words. "Please… P-please don't. I'll fucking- I'll do anything." He let out another scream when Ryan poked at the red gash in his stomach.

Ray wanted to laugh at him, knowing fully well Ryan wasn't going to listen to the pleading. As if he had the right to beg, it was almost funny. He ran a hand across his face, for some reason he felt exhausted and he really hadn't even done anything. 

"Anything? Would you let me fuck you?" Ryan was grinning now, a manic expression that widened when he wiggled a gloved finger into the wound on Jackson's stomach.  
A scream. Another cough and spray of blood. "Y-yes…"   
"Beg me." This time Ryan's voice was cold and flat as he pushed his finger down even further into the deep cut. "Be convincing."

Ray leant a hand on Geoff's chair, partaking in the comfort because /holy shit Ryan just stuck his finger in that man's stomach/ he grimaced. It was oddly satisfying, to see him beg, but that was probably because of all the stories Michael had told him about having to beg the man. It was great to see the abuser become the abused.

Jackson's eyes were shut as he babbled, and he probably would have been bright red with shame if it weren't for the fact that most of his blood was leaving his body very rapidly. "Please… Fuck me, please. I'll be good… I want you-" He continued, obscene epithets falling from his lips until 

Ryan snickered darkly.  
"Unfortunately for you, you're not my type." He slammed the Bowie knife downwards, and Jackson howled, eyes rolling back in his head and his body slumping downwards- unconscious.

Ray let out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, shaking his head in exasperation. "Well, remind me not to get on your bad side." Ray muttered lightly, trying to add a bit of humour to the situation, mostly for Geoff's benefit than anything.

Ryan grinned, "He'd not dead, Ray. Just unconscious. Getting stabbed in the dick will do that to a guy…" He pulled his finger out of Jackson's stomach, wiping the blood on the table dispassionately. "His body's in shock… He'll probably bleed out before he wakes up if I don't do anything." He stripped off his latex gloves, tossing them to the side and shuffling through his duffle bag until he found the bandages and pain killers. He quickly taped up some of the larger wounds, sticking a few of the prescription drugs down Jackson's throat until he swallowed reflexively. "Give it a few minutes… He'll wake up, and I can finish." He stretched, cracking his back.

Ray grimaced, he'd only been slightly hopeful that that was it. He moved to sit down on the floor, resting his elbows on his knees. "So did you research this shit or was it always just trial and error?" Ray asked curiously, glancing up at him.

"Sometimes… I have a lot of free time. But a lot of it is just instinct and basic knowledge of human anatomy," Ryan shrugged. He looked almost happy, the persona he adopted during torture slipping away to reveal a content, if blood-spattered, man. "What I'm doing here is something similar to Lingchi- the 'death of a thousand cuts'- but more freeform."

 

"Huh..." Ray mused, as if he had any idea what Ryan was talking about at this point. He slid the annoying gloves off his fingers finally, deciding that Ryan probably wasn't going to ask any more of him and he was thankful for that.

"Why do you ask? Thinking of getting into the business?" Ryan looked Ray up and down- he was small, but that didn't necessarily mean much if you were quick on your feet and good with a knife.

Geoff, who had been staring listlessly off into space and trying to hold onto the contents of his stomach, shot Ray a warning look. He wasn't going to have one of his best men turn crazy on him.

Ray laughed but shook his head. "No, just curious." Ray could do it, he knew he could, given the right circumstances. But he wouldn't if he didn't have to, and life hadn't hit him hard enough to make him enjoy it. Ray did sniping, Ray managed guns and assassinating when he needed to. He didn't do torture, didn't do the long drawn out painful deaths. He did headshots.

"What about you, Geoff?" Ryan smirked, raising a brow at the tattooed man.

Geoff glared back at him weakly; God, he must look like fucking death. "No, I think I'll pass," he muttered, catching the heave of his stomach before it could entirely empty its contents and closing his mouth. He swallowed back the small bit of vomit, making a face.

Ray scuffled away quickly, just in case but managed to furrow his brow at the man. Geoff had a weaker stomach than he thought... but maybe that was just cause he'd recently gotten over being sick. "You okay there, Geoff?"

Geoff waved it off, "Fine, fine. Usually don't have to watch people being tortured… I'm not used to all the-" he gestured around at the warehouse vaguely, "This." 

Ryan nodded, tucking away the way Geoff looked practically haunted for later reference. He walked back to the table, pulling on another pair of latex gloves and checking Jackson's pulse. It was rapid, but no longer completely erratic, even if blood was seeping from the man's crotch.

Ray rubbed the bridge of his nose as he drew his attention back to the man on the table. He looked like shit, and it made Ray smile despite everything. He'd had to listen to Michael cry about this asshole for hours, and he was fucking finally getting what came to him. Karma is a bitch.

Ryan cradled Jackson's face in his hands, slapping it gently to rouse the man. "Jackson…" he cooed, voice sounding like cherries and honey as the man's eyes drifted open lethargically. "Ah, there we are. Couldn't have you missing the rest of the fun, now, could we?"

 

Ryan's voice made shivers run across Ray's spine, the creepy factor was immense and sometimes he swore Ryan lived off of fear. He tilted his head slightly, taking in the realization that the man on the table was alive right now and in mere minutes, most likely, he'd be gone. It was an insane thought and though it wasn't uncommon to kill someone to Ray, it was weird to see it happen so slowly.

Jackson's face paled even more when he saw the man, fear taking over his expression, and Ryan smiled. He wormed his finger back into the man's stomach wound, relishing the pained sound that came from Jackson's throat. "You know," he drawled out conversationally, "A gut wound is one of the most painful things you can die of. It can takes weeks, and even with the right medical care, you might end of being poisoned by your own waste. We don't have that kind of time, but I thought you might like a taste of it." He jerked his finger sharply, opening the cut further so that he could fit in the index finger of his other hand.

Ray kept his gaze measured on the two of them, eyes cold and harsh; though inside he was wishing Ryan would speed up, just a little. It was a lot to take in the and gruesomeness of the situation was majorly disturbing. Ray was thankful he didn't have a sensitive stomach.

Ryan pried the wound open further and slipping in his entire hand, pushing down farther and wiggling his fingers. Jackson let out a hoarse scream, and Ryan chuckled. "I think I can honestly feel something down there. Maybe I should check…" He grabbed the tactical knife out of his duffel, pausing momentarily to savor the expression on Jackson's face, before plunging the blade into roughly the same spot his liver would be.

Ray's eyes widened, okay /really thankful/ he didn't have a sensitive stomach. It was fucking brutal, really, and he was having a hard time keeping his eyes set on them. He glanced over nervously to Geoff, mostly expecting the man to puke any second.

Ryan withdrew the knife, admiring the way the blood gouge enabled him to pull it out without too much effort. Jackson's noises were constant now, a long string of groans and whimpers that occasionally tapered off into sharp screams. Satisfied, Ryan walked around the table to his left side, positioning the knife at angle over the man's chest, judging that he'd be able to slip the blade through Jackson's ribs and pierce the muscle still pumping blood within him. "Let's check that you really do have a heart, shall we? Oh- any last words, as well. It's common courtesy.” 

Geoff hand closed his eyes when Ryan had been working over the bastard's stomach, but now they snapped open, ready to witness the end of this mess of a man.

Ray tilted his head curiously now, raising his eyebrows up. He honestly wanted to know what they would be, if he'd even say anything at all. He moved to stand up, making sure to get a clear shot of the knife plunging into the man's heart.

 

Jackson spat blood to the side, a last act of defiance as he gave Ryan a weak, pitiful glare. "Tell Michael… That the little whore can go fuck himself." Ryan shrugged coolly, a serene smile twisting his features as he stuck the knife in, practically feeling it pierce the man's heart. He gurgled, spasmed, and lay still: thus ended the empty life of Jackson Reed, any accomplishments he'd had forgotten- at least in the face of these men- in favor of the sounds of his demise.   
Geoff threw up onto the warehouse floor.  
______

Michael was annoyed when he woke up, eyes flashing awake and he hesitantly ran his hands across his sweating body. He didn't remember having a nightmare, but he supposed that was the only logical explanation. He rubbed at his eyes, yawning and making his way to the bathroom to wipe away the sweat. He wet the washcloth, rubbing it across his shoulders and back before scrubbing lightly at his chest. He yelped instinctively when he thought he saw Jackson behind him, shaking his head to try to rid the thoughts. "He's not here." Michael murmured to himself. "He's not here."

After a few seconds of staring he decided he didn't want to cave- but the pills seemed so good right now and he was sure he could sober up by the time they got back. He could absolutely take them now and be fine in a few hours. He slid open the cabinet, furrowing his brow when they weren't there. He'd sworn he'd set them there... "Really?" He seethed to himself, kicking his foot at the counter. "Fuck!" How the hell was he supposed to deal with the flashbacks when he had nothing to calm them down. Michael wound his fingers into his short locks, tugging harshly at the curls as he sank to the floor. All he could hear was Jackson, everything was entirely surrounded by the man, he could practically /smell/ him. He felt briefly like he was drowning.

He was frantic, chest rising and falling as he buried his face in his hands and refused to look. If he refused to look, he wasn't there, as simple as that. He let out a scream when he swore he felt someone's hand on his hair, kicking his feet back up instinctively and crawling further into himself. He could feel the hot tears sliding down his face, his body spasming with every touch he thought he felt.

Michael could feel his heart beat speeding up, his head pounding against his skull as he sobbed and screamed. He knew Ryan was probably going to have noise complaints, or something, but he couldn't bring himself to care about anything but the man that was surely standing above him right now. He could hear him, hear his quiet whispers and soothing coos. It was horrible.

Michael's body spasmed again, swearing he could feel someone trying to turn him over on his stomach; 'get down baby boy, c'mon' Michael cringed, hands moving to cover his ears as he shook his head frantically. A few of his wounds had managed to open in his struggle with internal demons, staining the bandaging with bright red.

The screams died off somewhat, replaced by what sounded more along the lines of strangled cries. He laid down against the cold tile, biting into his arm to try to quiet down his sobs a little. He knew no one was here anyway, he'd just have to get through this one himself.

Michael shifted even further away from the door of the bathroom, moving into the corner next to the shower and continuing to try to shy out the hallucinations. He buried his face into his arms again, curled around himself with his back against the wall. After a few minutes he could feel the exhaustion creeping up on him, shaky yawn tearing it's way from his throat as he pressed back against the wall. The voice was quieter now, and he hadn't felt a touch for a good few minutes.

Michael let his body fall into the realms of sleep, hands clutching at his hair tightly as he fell asleep; breathing steadying and tears stopping.

 

______

 

Ray grimaced, he'd been mostly expecting that. It was nice to see him dead though, he eyed the body for a few moments before turning to glance at Geoff clutching his stomach and heaving unto the concrete. He scratched at his neck, letting out a sigh. "Well, that was definitely something."

Ryan pulled off his latex gloves with a grin. "That was wonderful." He felt giddy- high almost. The itch under his skin was completely gone, and it was like a sudden release of pressure. Of course, he still had to deal with the body, but for a moment, he could bask in the glorious afterglow. 

Geoff dry-heaved once more, before looking up at Ryan with a half-terrified, half-impressed expression. "Holy fuck…" His voice cracked on the second word.

Ray let out a little laugh at the man's obvious happiness, shaking his head as if to say /I don't understand it, but I'm okay with it/. He ran a hand through his hair, he felt shaky and a little pale but otherwise okay. He swallowed around his dry throat, letting out a breath.

Ryan stretched, reaching one hand down to brace the small of his back as his spine gave an audible pop. Torture was like sex, except it left you elated rather than sleepy, and there was more clean-up required. He set about the task, tucking away anything that might have their DNA on it into his duffel along with his knives- two of which he pulled from Jackson's corpse- and set about looking for something to wrap the body in.

 

 

Ray pointed him towards a few tarps in the corner, before turning attention to Geoff. He wanted to make a snide comment towards the man about him tricking him, but figured he was probably getting enough shit from Michael at this point. He patted the man's shoulder kindly. "Are you gonna drop by to see him?" He questioned curiously, even if the man was mad at him; Geoff sometimes still wanted to see for himself, just to make sure he actually was okay.

Geoff made a face, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "I- God, he's fucking angry as dicks at me right now. I don't know if seeing me will make it better or worse…" He wanted to though… He wanted to make sure Michael was okay- that Ryan hadn't hurt him, that he wasn't having breakdowns, that he knew Jackson couldn't touch him again… Knew that Geoff was so fucking sorry it hurt. "Did you see him? Is he okay; he's not hurt, is he?"

Ryan hummed absently to himself, ignoring their conversation in favor of untying Jackson's body and wrapping it in a tarp after he'd put new gloves on. He was going through a lot of them today.

"He's angry at you and he'll continue to be angry at you until you see him face to face and force him to actually listen to you. Nicely, calmly. It's part of the healing process, really." Ray ran a hand across his face and sighed. "He's okay, for the most part. He had a flashback at noon, but that's all to be expected." Ray shrugged. "He's coping better than I thought he would."

Geoff nodded, glancing over to Ryan. "Hey- uhf… You okay burying that thing, or do you need help?"

Ryan shrugged. Honestly, he wouldn't mind some time alone, especially now. He was feeling a bit floaty in his post-murderous state, and he'd probably be happiest spending it by himself. 

"Okay, cool… Ray and I are just going to check on Michael." Geoff waited for the backlash, but all he got was a raised eyebrow, a nod, and a single house key being tossed his way as Ryan went about his work.

Ray opened the door to the warehouse, walking with Geoff out of the door. "See you later, Ryan!" He called, shutting it behind them and beginning to walk towards Geoff's car. He really didn't like driving when he didn't have to. He remembered briefly that Geoff hadn't actually ever experienced Michael in this stage and took a breather. "Okay, so.. uh warnings. He's probably gonna act like he's seven at some point, ask permission for something, or cry. He's better now than he was, but it'll still probably happen. The asshole basically came in and made him revert back to his previous states, so... there's that."

Geoff grimaced, his brow creasing worriedly as he slid into the passenger seat and started the engine, not bothering to buckle up. "So, what do I do? Just humor him or whatever?" He was good with kids; he wasn't sure how he was with adults that reverted back to childlike behavior.

 

Ray took time to realize just how different him and Ryan were, it actually shocked him that Michael was interested in both of them, they seemed like polar opposites. He opened the door to the passenger side and slipped in, buckling his seatbelt easily. "Not exactly, it's sort of a balance. We're trying to get rid of the child side, not embrace it. But at the same time, you can't just like go off on him about it... It takes some practice."

Geoff nodded, putting the car into drive and backing out of the gravel drive. He remembered generally where Ryan's place was, and he was pretty sure he could find it with only a bit of help from Ray. "Alright… Fuck," he bit his lower lip. He still felt like his guilt might take over again, and he'd start crying. Well, that's what the flask in his pocket was for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed ;) Let us know what you thought!


	32. Chapter 32

Ray let him know he was about to take a wrong turn a few times, guiding him there easily. He was a bit nervous to be truthful, about Geoff in general working with Michael. Where as he liked Geoff and thought he was a good guy, who'd never intentionally hurt Michael. He still had some very prominent tendencies and Ray was a bit unsure how he'd react. He took a breath when Geoff pulled into the garage.

They bypassed the sleeping woman at the check-in counter, riding the elevator up to Ryan's floor. Geoff fidgeted in front of the door to the apartment, unsure if he should knock, or just let himself in. He glanced at Ray, "You should, uh, probably go in first." He was the boss, for Christ's sake, but he felt like a teenage girl.

Ray arched an eyebrow but opened the door never the less, he glanced around; humming lightly as he took in the still on TV. Well, he was home at least. "Michael?" He called, somewhat quietly. If he was napping he didn't want to disturb him. 

Michael was still curled in on himself in the bathroom, body entirely exhausted and sleep still confining him despite the noise and uncomfortable position.

Geoff crept in guiltily after him, closing the door behind him and turning off Ryan's TV. His eyes widened when he saw the bloodstains on Ryan's couch and coffee table- had those always been there? He shot Ray a worried glance.

Ray huffed, turning around to look at Geoff. "Look, stay calm okay? If you get riled up or upset, it's just going to make him worse." The last thing he needed was Geoff freaking out about Ryan right now. He checked in the kitchen briefly, before walking down the hall and peeking into the bedroom. He'd really expected him to be lying there..

Geoff wrung his hands worriedly, sitting down on the couch, careful to avoid the spots of blood. Who the hell's were they? He thought he knew the answer, but at the same time, he really didn't want to know. It was a rough day already, and his mouth tasted like vomit.

Ray walked back down the hallway and peeked his head into the bathroom. He frowned sympathetically, Michael's curls were sticking to his forehead and there were obvious tear tracks down his face. This had been why he sort of wanted a babysitter for the man. He walked back to the bedroom, grabbing Michael's t-shirt and heading back into the bathroom. He crouched down beside him, stroking at his hair gently until he woke up. 

"R-Ray?" Michael hiccupped, already moving to lunge at him and wrap his arms around his neck. 

"Sh, hey. Yeah, I know. It's okay. You're fine." Ray pulled back so that he could help Michael tug on his shirt. Ray stood then, tugging Michael up to his feet as well. He was still sniffling, eyes red and puffy. "Come on, let's get you some water." Ray murmured, already moving out of the bathroom. Michael gripped at his arm, needy for the contact.

Geoff stood when they entered, worry and then alarm crossing his face when he saw Michael's blood soaked bandages. He gave Ray a horrified look, mouthing "I thought you said he was okay!" before hesitantly walking towards the man, ready to take whatever Michael was willing to give him, be it a hug or a punch in the face.

Ray shrugged, and mouthed back 'he's fine.' Michael stared at Geoff for a few moments, unsure of how he wanted to react. He wanted Ryan, honestly, not these two. He gripped tighter at Ray's hand, taking a step back and trying to keep his glossy eyes leveled to Geoff's. Ray winced, but didn't pull back.

"Michael…" Geoff's face fell. He could deal with anger, but this? Michael backing away from him like a kicked puppy? He felt a lump form in his throat. Fucking hell...

Michael sniffled harshly, he was trying really hard not to cry right now. He would've yelled at him had he been here earlier, but that was before he'd had a flashback and before he felt incredibly alone. He grabbed at Ray's waist, forcing the man to turn around and actually hug him. Ray did, shooting Geoff a sympathetic glance. "He-he was right there, he-he-he I could feel him, all over." Michael whimpered, hands clutching tightly to Ray's shirt. Ray motioned Geoff over with a nod of his head.

Geoff stepped forward hesitantly. He'd seen Michael have breakdowns before: scream and yell and shut down and panic… But this was utterly surreal. He was limp and scared and he wasn't fighting back tooth and nail. Geoff didn't know who the hell this man was, but he wanted to hug him. He hovered a few inches away; unsure.

Ray rubbed at Michael's back gently, soothing circles as he rolled his eyes at Geoff's hesitancy. He grabbed Geoff by the wrist, dragging him closer and setting his hand against Michael's back. He squirmed his way out of Michael's grasp quickly. "I'm going to get you some water, go to Geoff." He murmured quietly, smiling when Michael made the transition well. He gripped at Geoff's back, body slumping forward into the embrace submissively.

Geoff looked down at the man clinging to his shirt, stroking his back gently and gazing down at him with a worried expression. This was different than Michael being broken; Geoff could, and had, handled that. But this was new and strange and he was just getting clutched at for dear life.

Michael sniffled against him, his head still felt groggy and his body was hurting. He let out a tired yawn against Geoff's chest, the soothing rubbing of his back was slowing his panicking breathing. He was warm and familiar and it was nice. Ray grabbed the bottle of water and moved back, not taking him from Geoff but just observing them. "He's sleepy." He informed him. "I assume he had a flashback and no one was here to comfort him really, so he probably tired himself out trying to resist it. It'll be easier if you move him to the couch."

 

Geoff nodded, guiding the man to the bloodstained piece of furniture. He kicked of his shoes, stretching out and pulling Michael down to gently lay on top of him. "Are you alright?" he stroked the man's hair absently, noticing with disappointment that he'd had it cut. Fuck, he'd love those absolutely grab-able locks.

Michael shook his head, fingertips clutching the man's shirt tightly. Ray wanted to laugh almost, reminding himself that Geoff hadn't dealt with this Michael before and that he didn't know Michael wouldn't answer the question. Ray had learned Michael's cues by now and knew exactly when and what he could ask. Geoff seemed to still be learning. Ray moved to sit down on the floor, setting the bottle of water near the couch and watching the tv aimlessly.

Geoff sighed, not pushing the subject. He decided to settle on the most innocuous thing he could think of: "You cut your hair, dude. Finally decided that my opinion wasn't worth the extra hassle?" he teased, ruffling the short curls gently.

Michael broke, sitting up sharply and shaking his head frantically, sobs already falling from his mouth before he could stop them. "I'm-I'm sorry." He scrambled off of the man, already walking backwards. "He-, I didn't wan-" Michael's words were jumbled and pained, hoarse voice unsteady. Ray grimaced, motioning Michael towards him. He obeyed, keeping his eyes down cast from Geoff and sniffling as Ray dragged Michael down to sit next to him "He made him cut it." Ray told him simply.

Geoff's eyes grew wide and he felt another fresh stab of guilt pierce his stomach, "Fuck… I didn't know…" He fumbled in his pocket, taking a swig from his flask before tossing it on the end table and putting his head in his hands. Couldn't he do anything right today? Why the hell was he being such a screw-up?

"My fault, should've warned you." Ray told him, it wasn't necessarily true but he really didn't want to see Geoff holding any more guilt. 

"Geoff's mad?" Michael asked quietly to Ray, this is why he had thrown such a fit about the hair, because he didn't want to see Geoff's disappointment. 

"No, he's not." Ray told him gently, reaching forward to pat gently at Geoff's knee. "Are you?"

"Fuck, no," Geoff murmured, "Not your fault. Come back over here," he held open his arms, practically begging for Michael to go back to snuggling him. He didn't think he could deal with that kind of cold shoulder when the man looked so frightened. He just wanted to curl up on the couch and play video games and laugh at stupid shit, like they usually did.

 

Michael sniffled again, standing up willingly. He still had to follow commands from Geoff, he knew that. Geoff hadn't shown him that he didn't have to behave for him yet. He moved to crawl into Geoff's lap, wiping at his still slightly watering eyes. He turned his attention to Ray for a moment. "Why's Ryan not with you?" Ray answered back quickly. "He's safe, just cleaning things up."

Geoff wrapped his arms around Michael, stroking his back and nuzzling into the man's shoulder. Fuck, he didn't want to think about Ryan. Just the thought of the blood-covered man grinning over Reed's corpse made his stomach turn. They were going to have to have a talk, Geoff decided; skirting around each other and glaring didn't do Michael any good.

Michael yawned and let himself lean against Geoff's chest, the comfort was more than relaxing and he was content to just sit there for a while. His head was still reeling from the exhaustion and his body felt weak, of course, the blood probably didn't help. He wasn't sure why he was sitting on Geoff's lap, it wasn't like he cared. "I feel sick." Michael murmured, eyes closing a few times. Ray glanced at them for a moment, running a hand across the back of his neck.

"Do you want me to get you something?" Geoff asked, stroking Michael's short hair. "Aspirin, or new bandages, or something?" He was perfectly willing to dote on the younger man, if only to assuage his guilt slightly. He couldn't imagine what Michael had been through, and, truth be told, he didn't really want to.

Ray rolled his eyes, Geoff babied Michael on a normal day and really he should've expected it to be ten fold given the circumstances. "I think Ryan's almost out of bandages, but I'll try to find them." Ray offered, standing up and making his way to the bathroom. Michael looked up at Geoff when he walked away. "Why're you here?"

"Because I'm really fucking sorry…" Geoff murmured, deciding to go for truthful rather than bullshit his way out of the blame. "And I wanted to make sure you were okay… This whole thing is my fault and I'm so sorry you got hurt." His eyes were beginning to brim with tears again, and he internally cursed himself. He was such a pussy.

Michael furrowed his brows at him, lips pursed slightly as he looked Geoff over, as if trying to decipher whether he was actually truthful. Michael sighed softly, shaking his head a few times. "You were right y'know," He murmured quietly, moving to rest his head back against his shoulder. "I am a whore."

Geoff almost physically cringed, yet another stab of guilt impaling him. He added that comment to his rapidly growing list of things he'd fucked up lately. It sounded so much less valid- and a hell of a lot more painful- when he'd heard the word coming from Jackson's mouth. "No… No, you aren't. I'm just an asshole with a temper."

Michael slid his arms tighter around him, fingertips lightly stroking at the ends of his hair. He knew he was still upset at Geoff, at least a little bit, but right now he just wanted the comfort. He needed the comfort. He sniffled slightly, "Ray and Ryan threw out my medicine."

Geoff squeezed his eyes shut; there had been only one other time he'd heard Michael use that word with that same longing, and that was when he'd slipped up six months back. The younger man had broken his streak yet again, and this time, it was Geoff's fault. At least the rest of the X was gone, even if Michael was going to have to be put on "Geoff watch" for another month or so. "I'm sorry…" He didn't even know what he was sorry for, at this point.

"Can you get me more?" Michael questioned quietly, looking up to make sure Ray hadn't returned yet. "Please?" He pouted his lips adorably, making sure to use his best doe eyes on Geoff. He wasn't sure if it would work, but he really needed it. It was important.

"No, I can't," Geoff murmured, his forehead crinkling worriedly as he ran a hand up and down the man's back. He looked so damn cute, and it almost physically hurt him to resist Michael's puppy eyes, but it was for his own good. "Ecstasy fucks you up, Michael. You know that."

"It makes me better." Michael grumbled, "It makes me forget." Michael turned his attention away when Ray walked back down the hall, tossing bandages in the air as he did. He tossed them to Geoff with a quick "Here." before moving to lie down on the floor with his arms behind his head.

Geoff almost fumbled them, but managed to hang on to both the bandages and Michael, maneuvering the man off his lap with a sigh. "I'm not going to buy you drugs. But I will change your bandages." He reached forwards to peel off the one in the center of Michael's chest.

Ray raised an eyebrow at that, making sure to shoot Michael a disappointed look. Michael grimaced, trying to push Geoff's hands back away. He didn't want Geoff to change them, he wanted Ryan to. "No." He seethed out harshly. Flinching just after he said it.

Geoff pulled back, a little hurt by the gesture. "Michael, you're bleeding, buddy. Or, at least, you were. Whatever's under there is going to get infected." He tried not to sound as disappointed as he felt, but some of the tone slipped through into his words.

Michael shook his head stubbornly, clutching his arms tightly around himself. "They're fine." He practically growled out. He didn't want Geoff touching them, or seeing them. Ray sighed, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. "Michael..." He warned carefully, fully expecting him to start kicking Geoff.

Geoff made a face, pressing his lips together and backing away from the younger man. "They aren't fine, but if you're going to be a dick about it, Ray can do it." He understood why Michael might not want Geoff touching him. He moved off the couch, handed the roll of bandages to Ray.

 

Michael turned to glare at Ray, he didn't want Ray touching them either. He just wanted Ryan. He crossed his arms over his chest and huffed out a. "No." 

Ray sighed in response, at least he was finally comfortable saying that word. He moved to stand up, already reaching forward to grab Michael when he tried to run. He shook his head in exasperation when Michael's eyes started tearing up. Between the emotional pain and scarring, and the crashing of the drugs finally starting to leave his body entirely; the man was a wreck.

Geoff bit his lip when Michael teared up, resisting the urge to hug the man and press gentle kisses to his skin and tell him he'd be alright. He wanted to tell him that Jackson was dead, that he couldn't hurt him anymore, but the memories weren't gone and he couldn't fix that. Couldn't fix Michael… Maybe Ryan could, and the thought sent a sharp stab of pain through his heart.

Ray wrapped his arms around Michael, making sure the man's wrists were pressed tightly between them so he didn't fight out in response. He could hear Michael's sobs, could feel his body shaking with every force of the entirely too loud cries. He offered Geoff a glance. "Give him a second, the cries will wear him down and then we can change them." Ray offered, rubbing his thumb and forefinger across Michael's neck, the other hand rubbing in soothing circles along his back.

Geoff took one more look at Michael before grabbing his flask from the end table and collapsing on the floor. He took a long drink, rubbing his face as if that might stop him from wanting to cry. "This is my fault… This is all my fucking fault…" he whispered into the metal container, as if it might reassure him- tell him he was wrong.

Ray gave the man a slightly sympathetic, slightly annoyed gaze. He wasn't a fan of the way Geoff always jumped to drinking. He waited a few moments for the sobs to die down before Ray led Michael over to the couch gently, supporting most of the man's weight as he slumped against him. He pushed Michael lightly, prompting him to lay down on the plush sofa. Michael yawned harshly, moving his hands up to rub at his eyes. "S-sorry." He murmured quietly, Ray only responded with a friendly pat to his chest, careful to avoid the wounds.

Geoff watched listlessly from the floor, letting the alcohol in his bloodstream slowly calm him. He wondered how much convincing it had taken for Michael to let Ryan carve those cuts into his flesh. He didn't think the auburn haired man would have done it of his own accord; the Michael he knew wasn't a masochist, but who knew about this one? He found the way Ryan got off on torturing people abhorrent, but maybe this was consensual… He closed his eyes. Maybe he was wrong about the psychopath. It wasn't hard to imagine, with all he'd been wrong about lately.

Ray set to work on Michael's chest, tugging the bandages off of his body gently. He made sure to watch the man's face for too much discomfort, but he thought he was pretty safe with the way Michael's eyes were closing periodically. He really didn't want to deal with the ones on the man's hips, so he choose to assume those were fine. He spared a glance at Geoff. "Quite the difference, huh?" He mused, Ray knew Michael jumped emotions like crazy, the therapists had always told him he was most likely bipolar; but this wasn't just switching emotions, it was switching realities.

"He's like a fucking different person," Geoff whispered, horrified. He'd known there was something broken inside Michael, deep down, but seeing it come to the surface and take over like this was scary as dicks. He just wanted his Michael back, the one that screamed at video games, and joked around, and wrestled Gavin on the living room floor, and had water fights with him in the kitchen.

Ray sighed, nodding his head gently as he bandaged one of the cuts. "He'll be better when he wakes up. Flashbacks tend to set him back a little and this is his second one today, so." He patted the fresh bandage down lightly, before moving to the next one. "It's sort of expected."

"Fuck…" Geoff rubbed his face with one hand. "How long is this going to last? I don't- I don't know how to fucking handle him like this," the tattooed man admitted. He felt entirely lost.

Ray shrugged matter of factly. "It depends. Like I said though, he's actually recovering pretty fast this time. I'm not a therapist, but I'm assuming it's PTSD." Ray wrapped the next bandage quicker, due to the fact that Michael had now completely fallen asleep. Ray shot him a look. "To handle this Michael, you always sort of have to expect that he's gonna break down. You can't stop it, it's inevitable. You just kind of have to let him throw his fit and comfort him when you can. Positive reinforcement and all that shit."

"Alright…" Geoff took a deep breath, screwing the top back on his flask and standing, "I can handle that. I just- I had to get used to it." PTSD… The clinical, clear-cut definition was comforting. If you knew what was wrong, it was a lot easier to fix. "I can take care of him until Ryan gets back, if you want," he offered. He honestly had no idea how Ray felt about dealing with all this, "I need to talk to him, anyways."

"I get it, it's difficult." Ray smiled up at him, nodding his head. "Yeah, sure. I'm gonna go try to sleep actually." Ray finished the last bandage, running a hand across the man's hair before standing up and stretching, letting his back crack. "Call me if you need something." He patted Geoff on the shoulder before heading to the door, ready to go catch some much needed sleep.

Geoff nodded, gently moving Michael's feet so that he could sit down, and laying them across his lap once he got comfortable. He grabbed the remote, flicking the TV back on and flipping channels aimlessly, finally settling on a cooking show. He winced when they began shopping meat, deciding that maybe he should just turn off the television to avoid throwing up.

Michael turned to lay on his side subconsciously, body curling into himself as he let out quiet murmurs. Silent words that really held no relevance, his body was more than exhausted; and his mind wasn't even trying to compute anything to terrify him with.

 

Geoff rubbed his arm, watching the man's restless sleep and wishing he wasn't responsible for it. He didn't know how much time had passed when the door to the apartment creaked open, and his head snapped up. Ryan stood by the door, humming softly to himself as he shed his shoes and socks and dropped the duffel. He would have looked clean if it weren't for the small bloodstain on his jeans and the liquid spatters of it on his face. Geoff grimaced; he looked like he'd washed his hands of any blood that managed to slip under the latex, and the jacket he'd been wearing had shielded his tank top from any spurts of the substance, but the bastard just had to walk around with a red face and a sanguine smile.

Michael's mind woke up fuzzily due to the sound of Ryan's humming, it'd been silent in the house with just his and Geoff's breathing and the sudden intrusion of noise has started to wake him up. He blinked awake slowly, eyes cringing at the bright lights of the house.

Ryan let his eyes slide cooly over the scene before him: Michael, asleep on his bloodstained couch, with Geoff next to him. The tattooed man was giving Ryan something less-than his usual irate glare, and whether it was because he was afraid, grateful, or had somehow realized that the psychopath wasn't going to hurt Michael, he wasn't sure. Regardless, he walked over to the couch, sitting on the relatively bare coffee table and leaned forwards, elbows resting on his knees. "How is he?" Geoff shrugged, a guilty look crossing his face for a moment.

Michael yawned softly, hazy mind still trying to pull information together. He barely remembered falling asleep, he moved his hands to rub at his eyes; almost wishing he could fall back asleep again. Was that Ryan's voice? He wasn't sure.

Geoff decided to elaborate when Ryan didn't speak further; the man had almost as much of a right to know about Michael's life as he did at this point. "He's fucking… He's not doing so good. Ray said he had a flashback, and he wouldn't let me change his bandages. Ray had to hold him down until he cried himself out." He shot the man a weak glare; he knew that it wasn't really Ryan's fault, but he wanted to blame someone. 

Ryan nodded softly, "Did he change all of them, or just the ones on his chest?"

Michael rolled over onto his back, eyes still blinking as they tried to adapt to the bright lights. He glanced over to Ryan, small smile forming at the corner of his lips, though it turned to a frown when he noticed the blood splatters across the man's face. "Ry?" He murmured carefully, voice hoarse with sleep.

Geoff felt his heart constrict at the way Michael said the man's name- no, not even his name. A goddamn nickname. He tried not to glare when Ryan smiled softly down at the auburn-haired man; sweet rather than the manic grin that had been plastered on his face when he'd tortured Jackson. "Hey. How you feeling?" Geoff forced himself to ignore the honeyed tone, instead focusing on what Ryan had said before- other cuts. He scanned Michael's nearly bare form, spotting a couple bandages peaking out from the waistline of his boxers.

Michael continued to stare at the blood along the man's face, not answering his question and instead trying to piece together that they'd actually killed him. It hurt, that was the first thing Michael realized. It hurt worse than anything else he'd ever experienced, he was pretty sure of that. He knew Ryan had told him Jackson didn't love him, and where as he did believe Ryan... he also didn't. It was complex and it hurt his head. "Yo-you.." He bit on his bottom lip, unsure of how to phrase it.

Ryan's smile didn't leave his lips, but the light left his eyes as he nodded, "I killed him, yes." He'd snapped a picture of the body on his phone, just in case Michael needed to see it for himself, before going the the trouble of knocking out the man's teeth and slicing off his fingerprints. Parts of Jackson Reed were now scattered over Los Santos, though most of him resided in a landfill on the edge of town. The tarp he was wrapped in had the words 'We do not take kindly to rapists and child molesters' scrawled on it in sharpie, simply because Ryan couldn't resist telegraphing what the man had done. He reached out, putting a hand on Michael's shoulder and letting him take in the older man's blood splattered face, letting it ground him in this new reality.

Michael was torn between anger and relief, hands clutching into fists tightly as he stared at the man. He shook his head back and forth, hands moving to grip in his hair as he tried to refrain from punching Ryan. He did however let his foot kick out harshly at the man's shin.

Ryan let out a low, reflexive curse, rubbing the bruised skin with one hand and moving to stand. "I'm going to shower," he raised an eyebrow at Geoff, clear code for 'Can you handle this?' The tattooed man gave a soft nod, watching as Ryan walked away with a mixed expression. His feelings for the man were getting more and more confused by the second. All he knew was that he was still slightly afraid of the man; everything else was an inconsistent blur. He rubbed Michael's leg with one hand, wondering if he'd judged the man too soon.

Michael officially just wanted to die. He moved away from Geoff's embrace to curl up in the corner of the couch, legs tightly winding up to his chest and arms clinging around his head. His heart hurt like a bitch and he was incredibly aware that he no longer had anyone to consider family. He wished desperately that Ryan and Geoff would just stop already, it'd lessen the blow when they eventually did leave him.

Geoff's face fell when Michael pulled away, but he relented. Even after everything Jackson had done to him, Michael still had feelings for the man, and Geoff understood that. Emotions were irrational things, and the younger man was prone to irrationality in the first place. There was no logic that would calm him, but some kind words and gentle touches might, after a while.

Michael let out a pitiful whimper, trying to bite back the invading tears. He really didn't want to cry anymore. He didn't want to do anything anymore, he just wanted to lay here and not feel anything ever again. Maybe he wanted Geoff to cuddle him, a little. He wasn't sure. He really just wanted something to cure the pain. "If I promise to do whatever you want, will you get me some more pills?"

"I'm not in this because I want you to do things for me," Geoff replied gently, laying a hand on the man's leg and stroking it soothingly, "I'm in this because I fucking love you." Part of him wanted to give Michael a few pretty pills to take away the pain, but Geoff remembered what the man had been like when he was a druggie. He'd been absolutely bliss when he was on them, but the rest of the time he was so depressed and anxious that he'd contemplated hurting himself. Geoff had only been told that after Michael had detoxed, but it stuck with him.

Michael pursed his lips, shaking his head softly at him. "You don't, no one does." He let his head fall back onto the couch. "It's okay, I get it." Michael had to admit the touches were nice, but he couldn't think of anything but Jackson.

Geoff sighed: a soft, exasperated sound. He laid down on the couch, maneuvering Michael over so that they could both fit, even if the tattooed man was pressed close against him, their foreheads almost touching. He gently tried to tangle their legs together, stroking the younger man's arm. "You listen to me Michael Jones," he murmured intently, "I fucking love you. I love your ridiculously curly hair, and your cute freckles, and the way your eyes remind me of chocolate- but in a sexy way. I love it when you almost break my fucking TV when you wrestle Gavin, the way you scream at video game characters to move their ass even if you're the one controlling them, and the fact that you are one of the best cuddlers in the fucking universe. I love the face you make when you come- it's a really distinctive face, and it's fucking adorable- and I love the fact that you practically hibernate afterwards. I love you, and don't you dare say otherwise. It's fucking insulting."

Michael flushed a little at the compliments, but he kept his face measured. "Sorry." It was an immediate response to the edge of the man's tone during the last bit, and he hated it the moment it fell from his mouth. Geoff wouldn't want to hear an apology. He let Geoff embrace him, didn't fight him back or pull away, but he didn't make any move to hug the man in return.

"Don't be. You don't love me back, and that's fine. I mean, it's not /fine/ fine, but I get it. Just please don't think I don't love you because you don't understand how I can," he leaned forwards, pressing a kiss to Michael's forehead and resting his lips there.

Ryan stepped quietly back from the doorway that led to the hall, something hard and tight constricting his chest. He walked to his bedroom, tossing aside his towel and running a hand through his wet hair. He knew he should have stepped away the moment he heard Geoff speaking, but the word "love" had drawn him in in a way that no other word could. It was something he didn't understand- /couldn't/ understand, and the way Geoff had spoken- soft and sweet and oh, so sure of himself filled Ryan with a deep sense of regret and confusion. Suddenly, not for the first time in his life, but perhaps the second or third, he realized that he was lonely. He /wanted/ that so badly, wanted that sweet sensation that had a word for it, but no real definition… He collapsed back on his bed, tears leaking down his cheeks for the second time in as many days.

Michael felt his head pounding way before he felt the nausea hit at the pit of his stomach. He really should've been expecting his body to try to react this way, as if he could just throw up the emotions piling on top of each other. It probably didn't help that he hadn't eaten much either, and when he had it'd been a decently heavy meal. He tore himself away from Geoff frantically, scrambling down the hall and to the bathroom before collapsing in front of the toilet.

Geoff followed him quickly, no longer needing to hold back his hair, but kneeling next to him and stroking his back as he wretched. For whatever reason, Ryan was no longer in the bathroom, but from the water on the floor of the shower, Geoff guessed that he'd finished washing. "Hey, ssh. It's alright," he soothed, rubbing the man's back in slow circles and letting him empty his stomach's contents.

Michael groaned at the pain of the heaving, stomach cramping against him as he vomited. He could feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes at the taste of the acidic bile. Geoff was nice and all but he really wanted Ryan's comfort, for reasons he wasn't quite sure of.

Geoff continued his soothing words and ministrations, going as far as to press a kiss to the back of Michael's neck. The air stunk of vomit, and Geoff fought the urge to heave along with the younger man, even if he'd already emptied his stomach earlier that day.

"W-wan't Ryan." He muttered out, almost apologetically. He really didn't want to make Geoff feel bad, but Ryan had barely touched him since he got home and Michael just really needed him. Michael rested his head back on the porcelain of the toilet, too feeble to do much of anything right now.

Geoff's heart sank, but he nodded, standing up and walking to the door he remembered being Ryan's bedroom. It was half-open already, so the tattooed man didn't bother knocking before he entered. "Hey, Ryan, uh, Michael wants you and he's-" Geoff stopped short at the sight before him. The psychopath was sprawled back on his bed, staring listlessly at the ceiling as tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. It was completely incongruous with the older man's impression of the man.

Ryan sat up, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand, hiding his discomfort by getting straight to business. "Where is he?"

Michael clutched at his stomach as he dry heaved again, he didn't have anything left in his stomach to throw up but that didn't stop his body from torturing him. He whimpered slightly, fingertips nearly prying into one of his bandages. He wanted to scream when he recalled all the times Jackson had 'taken care' of him when he was like this, shaking his head desperately to try to keep the thoughts at bay.

Ryan nodded when Geoff told him, quickly slipping past the man and into the hallway. He wiped his eyes once more before entering the bathroom. They were probably still a bit red, but he really didn't want Michael to see him so uncomposed. He closed the door softly behind him, walking over to crouch by the younger man and put a hand on his shoulder.

Michael flinched at the contact for a second before turning around and wrapping his arms tightly around the man's neck, he nuzzled his face into his neck, sobs already flowing from him as he clutched tightly to Ryan's hair. "E-e-e-everything hurts." He whimpered out.

Ryan held him close, collapsing to the floor under Michael's weight and stroking his back slowly. He laid back against the tile, pulling Michael with him so that they could simply relax on the cool surface together. He didn't really know what to say, mimicking back the words numerous counselors told him when his parents had died. "It's going to be okay… I know it hurts now, but it will fade." The words were dry and fake in his mouth, so he shut up, curling a hand into Michael's hair and letting raw emotion overwhelm his as well. Fuck… He felt so god damn empty inside.

Michael let himself fall limp in the man's embrace, practically sitting on his lap as he clung to him. His sobs were probably pretty loud in the man's ear, and they felt more like frustrated yells than cries. He wanted to believe that the pain would fade, but he probably assumed that's just what they said when you got used to it. The room still smelled like vomit, actually he smelled too strongly of it; but he couldn't stop his eyes from closing when his sobs quieted down a bit.

Ryan moved a hand from Michael's hair to wipe at his eyes, which had begun to stream again. He slowly shifted the man off of him, sitting up and reaching over to shut the toilet lid and flush it. He laid back again, reaching out almost instinctively for Michael. For once, he was the one who needed contact… He understood why the younger man craved it so much.

Michael tilted his head at him, crawling back over and setting a leg on either side of the Ryan. He moved his hands to cradle the man's neck gently, smoothing the skin there lightly. "Are you crying?" Michael sniffled out, burying his head back into the man's chest and slumping against him once more.

Ryan let out a watery chuckle, the ridiculousness of the situation catching up with him. He was a 33 year-old man who was crying on the floor of his bathroom /because he was lonely/. He was crying because his life was void of people- generally because he either pushed them away or killed them- and suddenly it was a problem. And yet, here was Michael Jones, who'd been raped and abused and abandoned, but still craved human contact. Still had someone madly in love with him.

Michael moved his hands to the man's face, wiping Ryan's tears away with the pads of his thumbs. Michael furrowed his brow and pulled away slightly, looking at him seriously for a moment. "Why?" He murmured quietly, sliding his hands down to rest on the man's hips.

"Because I'm lonely," the words were a whispered secret between them, and even still he closed his eyes. He didn't want to admit it to himself, and saying it out loud was like breaking open a seal that had only been cracked before. He was so lonely… So used to being emotionless and strong- stoic, even- that even the admission stung. He was spiraling out of control.

Michael tilted his head again, blinking blearily at the man's closed eyes. It wasn't what he expected coming from someone like Ryan, not in the least bit. Ryan seemed perfectly content to sit at home and read, spending time by himself and fantasizing about god knows what. He moved his hand back up to rest on the man's cheek; leaning forward and letting their lips touch softly. He didn't think it would help much, but he wasn't sure what he could say.

The kiss was both isolating and comforting- a pleasant contact that was a physical reminder of how little he'd been touched lately. When was the last time he'd truly divulged himself to someone? Victoria, maybe… They'd met in a crowded bar, both trying to escape the suffocating environment. He'd physically knocked her over, and afterwards, they'd fled to a shitty little park- more of a playground than anything, and counted what few stars they could see through the lights of Liberty City. He hadn't slept that night, just talked with her and enjoyed idle touches until the sun rose and they parted ways. She'd pulled a pen from her immense mass of curls, laughing and scribbling her phone number on his arm… That was the only time he'd thought he'd been in love.   
He didn't pull away, letting Michael's lips dredge up memories until his eyes began to leak again.

Michael pulled back, furrowing his brow. He ran the pads of his thumbs across the man's face again. Oddly enough, Michael himself didn't deal with other people crying very well. It made his heart ache, every time someone so much as shed a tear. Or, at least people he cared about. "You're not alone, y'know." He murmured carefully.

Ryan composed himself, sitting up slightly and wiping the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. "What, are you going to say you love me?" It was half tease, half bitter, mocking statement. Very few people could love a monster like Ryan, and he hadn't even been able to love them back.

"I don't know how to love, really..." Michael mused, ignoring the bitterness of the statement. He pressed his lips back to the man's once before moving back. "I really do like you though, Ry..." He laid his head back against him. "Really."

Ryan's face softened, some of the bitterness draining from his expression. "That makes two of us… For both things." He didn't have an endless list of affection for the man, but he was warm and funny and enjoyed being cut open with a knife almost as much as Ryan enjoyed doing the cutting.

Michael smiled against him, a small yawn falling from his throat as he ran his fingertips lightly over his skin. It was calming and Michael was exhausted, beyond exhausted actually. He'd had a rough day and he was content to just curl up on top of Ryan. Though he was sure Geoff would be pretty annoyed if they stayed like this all night.

"We should probably get up from the bathroom floor now," Ryan mused, but made no move to force Michael off his lap or stand. Mostly he just wanted to sleep until this bout of emotions was only a memory. "Geoff's worried about you."

"Carry me." Michael murmured lightly, body slumping even more stubbornly against him, he wasn't going to move unless he was absolutely forced to.

"Wimp," Ryan teased, scooping the man up in his arms and rising a bit unsteadily to his feet. He carried Michael out of the bathroom, bypassing the main room when he noticed Geoff wasn't there, and into his bedroom. The tattooed man was sitting on his bed, head in hands.

Michael kept an arm around Ryan's body, but otherwise didn't even try to support himself, he felt entirely drained. He glanced up when they entered Ryan's bedroom, grimacing at Geoff's position. He immediately wanted to cry, he really should have just let Geoff care for him... He glanced at Ryan nervously, as if he could tell him how to handle it.

Geoff's head snapped up when Ryan entered, relaxing slightly when he saw Michael snuggled into the man's arms, even if a pang of jealousy shot through him at the sight. "He's fine," the psychopath assured him, gently laying Michael on the bed and letting him curl into the sheets. 

Geoff nodded, relief flooding through him at Ryan's cool, confident tone, no matter that the man's eyes were slightly red from crying. "Good… That's good. Can- Can we talk?" He peered up at Ryan through his fingers, another stab of guilt hitting home.

Michael's eyes started to close lightly when he snuggled under the warm blankets, they felt cool and smooth against his skin and he couldn't help falling into the plush mattress. He let his mind zone out, trying already to fall into sleep.

Ryan glanced longingly at the bed, and then back to Geoff's worried face. He sighed, rubbing his face with a hand, "Sure… We can talk, but I need to get some sleep first." He was much too emotional to be having the conversation the tattooed man no doubt wanted to have.

Now that he thought about it, Geoff was feeling kind of exhausted as well, and he gave the bed a look almost as longing as Ryan's had been, rubbing one hand against the sheets. "Fuck," he commented absently, "Even I don't have silk sheets… Those are soft as dicks."

Ryan chuckled, beginning to undress without a care for the other man's presence. "Well, the rest of this place is a dump; it's a guilty pleasure. Besides, cum stains are hard to get out of silk." He peeled off his pants, almost snickering when Geoff shifted uncomfortably at his near-nudity. The tattooed man didn't bristle at the casual reference to his and Michael's relationship, instead letting out a small laugh. It wasn't the rich, careless sound that Ryan- and everybody else- swore could cure cancer, but it was something.

Michael grabbed at one of the pillows, trapping it between his arm and his head as he shifted around on the bed, trying to find the most comfortable spot, even Ryan's pillows were amazingly well made, cradling his head nicely.

"You can test them out if you want," Ryan commented, raising an eyebrow. It was a small gesture, but one Geoff's bone tired brain appreciated none-the-less. Still, he gave the psychopath a suspicious look, voicing his doubts.

"What, like sleep in your bed? Isn't that a little…" he was going to say 'gay', but he figured that the humor wasn't really in good taste, given their relationship. Still, the tattooed man allowed himself a small pat on the back for the joke, before finishing his sentence- "Weird?"

Michael let out a groan because holy fuck they were still talking, loudly at that. He turned over onto his stomach and slid the pillow over his ears dramatically. It did quiet the voices down though.

Both Geoff and Ryan's eyes flicked over at the sound, and they glanced at each other- Ryan with an amused smirk, and Geoff with a guilty smile. "… Fine," the tattooed man murmured, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling his shirt over his head; if Ryan wasn't going to be modest, then neither would he. He slipped into Ryan's bed, the silk sheets feeling delicious, and yet somehow foreign, on his skin. What he didn't expect was the dip of the bed as the psychopath crawled into it, laying down comfortably on Michael's other side and closing his eyes. Geoff had thought this was Ryan's way of "making it up to him," though really he should have guessed it would be something weird like this; Ryan didn't really give a fuck about his feelings. The tattooed man sighed, giving in to exhaustion and snuggling subconsciously closer to the warm body (bodies) beside him.

Michael slid the pillow from over his head, laying it down in front of him instead, he snuggled into it, content with the steady breathing between the three of them. He supposed he should probably feel odd about sharing a bed with two people he'd fucked, recently at that. But his body was way too drowsy to care too much. The sleep took over rather quickly, exhausted mind finally slowing.

Despite how exhausted he felt, it took a few, long minutes for Ryan to succumb to sleep. It might have been the fact that he still felt like he was being bombarded by waves of emotion, or perhaps that he instinctively didn't trust Geoff, and his body wasn't willing to become so vulnerable around him. Yet, this was the only way he could think of to make a peace offering to the other man- it was all he could give. They could get along, even if they'd never be friends, and Michael could do whatever he pleased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed! Let us know what you thought.


	33. Chapter 33

Michael had hoped his dreams would be uneventful, quiet dreams where nothing really happened. However, his mind had other plans right around morning. He was sat in a dark room, door locked, he could tell because his fingertips were bleeding from trying to pry it open. There was nothing and no one to keep him company in the dimness that was the room. He tried to call out, but his voice grew stuck and raw. In his dream he knew Jackson was dead, but he was the only one who knew where Michael was, he could feel every ounce of panic as he tried to scream.

Geoff awoke to the feeling of the something warm beside him trying to squirm out of his arms. His eyes fluttered open, and he took stock of his surroundings. It took a moment before he realized where he was, but the memories of the day before came flooding back. He was hit by a stab of guilt, a wave of nausea, and a spike of jealousy all at once, before confusion replaced them. He was in Ryan's bed. He was in Ryan's bed, with his arms tangled around Michael and their legs twining together. On the younger man's other side, Ryan was spooning Michael, hand resting gently on the man's hip as their legs slotted together under the covers. Fuck… Fuck this was weird.

Michael still remained asleep, but his body was near spasming, chest rising and falling with the panicked breaths he was taking. His feet kicked out slightly, or as much as they were able to sandwiched between the two men. He let out a near whimper while his dream counterpoint continued to try to scream.

Geoff set aside his confusion for the more immediate problem of Michael's nightmare, gently shaking the younger man to jolt him out of his dreams. "Michael. Michael, buddy, wake up. It's just a dream…" he murmured, not wanting to wake Ryan.

The shaking worked to pull him from his dreams, he sat up sharply, grasping at his chest to try to catch his breath. He dug his fingers into his chest, fingernails scraping harshly against them. He felt like he couldn't breathe, like every single breath was shattering across his lungs.

Geoff sat up with him, pulling Michael to his chest and soothing him with gentle words and a light kiss to the top of his head. He saw Ryan sit up out of the corner of his eye, putting a hand on Michael’s shoulder. They exchanged a look; one more thing they could agree on, even if the situation was one of the odder things Geoff had experienced.

Michael let his head fall unto Geoff's chest, counting his breaths until they steadied somewhat. He released his grip on his chest, pulling back and blinking between the two of them. He was mostly confused... Why were they both sleeping on the bed anyway? It really didn't make sense...

Ryan gave him a small smile, "How are you?" The absurdity of the situation was getting to him, the fact that he'd invited Geoff to sleep in his bed. Then again, this was all he could give the other man. Geoff may have been a hypocrite and an egoist, but he was also in love with Michael in a way that Ryan never could be… He just didn't function like that.

"'m fine." Michael murmured quietly, "Sorry for waking you guys up." He rubbed the sweat off of his forehead and laid back down against the bed. He honestly didn't feel as bad as yesterday, his body wasn't too sore and the emotional pain was dying into numbness.

"It's fine," Ryan murmured, raising an eyebrow at Geoff. The tattooed man shrugged, turning his attention back to Michael.

"What was it about?" he smoothed the man's hair back, genuine concern etched across his features.

Michael furrowed his brow, he really didn't like rehashing his dreams. "I was just.. locked somewhere." He shrugged nonchalantly, hands lacing back behind his head.

Ryan slipped out of bed, mouthing a cool 'Don't fuck on my bed' at Geoff and walking out of the room. The tattooed man watched him go, a mixed expression on his face. "He's… something else," Geoff muttered, lying back against the plush pillows.

Michael curled into Geoff when he laid down, leg moving to rest on top of his. It was nice to just relax, completely comfortable with selfishly switching cuddle partners. "Why aren't you mad at him anymore?"

"Because I'm not much better than he is," Geoff muttered, another wave of guilt passing through him. "And he actually cares about you… I'm jealous as dicks, but I can't hate him for it." He curled into Michael, glad that the younger man wasn't mad at him anymore. Well, maybe he was, but he wasn't mad enough to give him the cold shoulder.

Michael nodded in understanding, letting his fingertips tap against the man's waist. "I miss Jackson. I know- I know I shouldn't, I know he didn't miss me ever, he prom- he promised he did, but... I just- I don't know." Michael murmured quietly, shaking his head softly.

"Feelings suck dicks, dude," Geoff murmured, pressing a kiss to the man's temple, "And they aren't rational. You just gotta keep reminding yourself that he was a fucking asshole who didn't deserve you."

"But he was the only family I had Geoff." Michael mumbled, "Do you know how many foster homes gave me up? He was the only person in my life that actually stayed." He ran a hand across his face, frustrated at himself for being such a fucking /child/.

"Bullshit," Geoff said firmly, "You've had me- and Gav, and Ray, and even fucking Jack- for how many years now? Even before I was in love with you, I fucking loved you. You're one of my best goddamn friends in the entire world- you got to make your family, and you made it with us." He didn't mention the fact that the man had been like a son to him almost as much as Gav had, if not more; he didn't want to dredge up even more memories.

Michael nodded softly, it was true... he had joined a nice group of friends, but there was still something different. He let the feeling slide, resisting the urge to kiss the man next to him. It was a dick move, and he knew that. He hated stringing the two men along, but he needed both of them; even if one was on a friendship level, and he didn't know how to keep them both without one being jealous or hurt.

"I'm really fucking sorry for what I did…" Geoff murmured. He didn't think he could bare it if Michael didn't forgive him; he'd fucked up… He'd fucked up so fucking bad, and it was selfish to want Michael to still want him, but he did. That's what love did to you… It made you simultaneously the most selfish and selfless person on the fucking planet.

Michael glanced up at him, hand sliding up to rest on his cheek. "It takes a fucking lot to talk about it, Geoff. But I would've told you /eventually/ you didn't have to be a nosy asshole." He shook his head slightly. "I forgive you, I do, but I don't know how much I trust you right now."

"Okay… Thank you," he pressed his nose into Michael's hair; the man smelled like sweat and fear, and Geoff just wanted to slip into the bathtub with him and wash the scents away. The younger man usually smelled like cinnamon. "It doesn't actually look bad like this, your hair. It's just harder to pull on," he mused, winding one hand through the curly locks.

"I hate it." Michael growled out, it wasn't the cut itself he hated, if anyone else had done it he probably wouldn't have minded it. "I really did try not to let him, Geoff, I really, really fucking did." He could feel the phantom tugs of the man dragging him towards the bathroom.

Geoff paused for a moment, his fingers no longer twining through the man's hair. "… You want me to change it?" he asked slowly. He doubted he'd be able to do anything more elegant than buzz Michael's head, but still… He could sacrifice his own desire to tug on the man's hair if it meant Michael would have some piece of mind while looking in the mirror.

Michael pondered the idea, shaking his head after a few seconds. "No, that's okay. It's just hair, I'll get over it." He really didn't want Geoff to be associated with cutting his hair, cause he wasn't sure he could separate the two of them if he did.

"Mmkay," Geoff murmured, kissing Michael's cheek and rolling over so that he was no longer smothering the man. "But I think we're avoiding one, crucial issue here. Why the fuck am I in Ryan's bed?" He grinned at Michael; no doubt the younger man was as confused as he was.

"Why are you?" Michael chuckled, "Did your guys' conversation turn weird?" He joked easily, yawning slightly as he stretched his arms above his head.

 

"Our 'conversation' was literally 'we're both fucking tired, let's go to sleep’," Geoff scrunched up his face, "I think he wants to bang me." It was only half-joke; he had absolutely no idea what was going on in Ryan's head. All he knew was that they generally disliked each other, and he was a little bit scared of the man, especially after seeing exactly what he could do with a knife.

Michael let out a laugh, grin forming across his face at that. "You guys are fuckin' weird." He shook his head in exasperation, still letting out a few soft giggles before sitting up. "My mouth tastes like puke, I'm gonna go swallow toothpaste or something."

"That's probably bad for you," Geoff murmured, snuggling into the sheets. He just wanted to go back to sleep, and the bed was fucking comfortable. 

Ryan flipped idly through his latest novel, sipping his coffee and leaning back against the couch cushions. He felt a bit muzzy after the events of last night, and was finding it hard to concentrate on the words in front of him.

Michael patted Geoff's foot as he got up from the bed, he walked swiftly into the bathroom and turned on the sink. He leaned his head forward to wash the sweat out of his curls, scrubbing his fingers into his scalp before pulling back and letting his now wet hair spill water across his face. It was easier than taking the time to remove his bandages to shower. He searched for an extra toothbrush before just deciding to use Ryan's. He put a good amount of toothpaste on it before scrubbing at his teeth.

Ryan sighed, closing his book. The words weren't registering in his mind, and even the scalding coffee didn't have it's usual, soothing effect. He didn't even have any breakfast food left, and the leftover burgers from the previous day didn't look so appetizing now that they'd been out for at least 18 hours.

Michael rinsed and spit, thankful for the pepperminty taste instead of the previous acidic one. He glanced at himself for a second before washing off the toothbrush and setting it to the side. He walked back down into the main room, heading over to Ryan and taking the coffee from his hands. He took a sip of it himself, enjoying the rush of caffeine before setting it back in Ryan's hand. "Morning."

"Morning," Ryan raised an eyebrow at him, "There's more coffee in the pot, if you want it." He motioned towards the messy kitchen with his head. Maybe he should actually work on cleaning his apartment, given that people were stopping by more and more often.

"I'm good." Michael murmured, pressing a kiss to the man's cheek. He climbed over the man, crawling into his lap easily. "Why'd you let Geoff sleep in your bed last night?"

 

Ryan shrugged, "He loves you. I'm not going to make him sleep on the couch while you curl up next to me." It was rational, but the older man had been feeling anything but rational last night. It had been a mixture of foreign emotions that he couldn't quite explain, even now.

Michael furrowed his brow but nodded never the less, it did make sense. Somehow. He pressed a light kiss to the corner of Ryan's mouth, before resting his head down unto the man's shoulder and curling comfortably against him.

"You're cuddly this morning," Ryan commented, curling an arm around the younger man and giving him a soft smile. He wondered what it would be like to have this kind of intimacy all the time.

"Yeah well, that happens sometimes." Michael mused easily, sliding his hands across the man's waist. It was nice to just cuddle into him, even if his wet hair was tickling his neck.

Ryan made a soft, approving sound at the contact, eyes slipping closed for a moment. "Need me to change your bandages?" It was an innocent question, but his eyes slid over Michael's bandaged torso hungrily.

"Yeah, sure." Michael smiled at him, already moving away slightly to give him more room. He also may have 'accidentally' grinded his hips down subtly.

Ryan chuckled softly, ducking his head in to nip at Michael's neck. "That means you have to get up, you know..." he murmured. "But we could always do something else..." Geoff was lying not 30 feet away, but Ryan couldn't bring himself to care very much.

Michael smirked, moaning his approval at the contact, but he backed up never the less and moved to lay his back against the couch. They were starting to itch to be honest and he wouldn't mind getting them changed. "Can you like wash the blood off a little? Ray did a shit job."

Ryan nodded, standing up to grab a washcloth from the bathroom and wet it down. He also retrieved the bandages from his duffel. He'd kept them in a separate pocket from the dirty latex gloves, rope, and the rest of the trash that held his DNA; he'd been planning to throw them away later, and clean his knives more properly than the rinsing he'd given them. "Did Ray at least try to clean the ones on your hips?" he asked, sitting down on the coffee table and setting the bandages and cloth beside him.

"No." Michael answered simply, shrugging his shoulders and lacing his arms behind his head. The position made his muscles stretch pleasantly. "I didn't exactly make it easy on him though, I sort of threw a fit. So."

Ryan grimaced- both at Ray's unwillingness to see Michael naked even if it was just to change his bandages, and at the auburn-haired man's penchant for temper tantrums. He stood, leaning over Michael and gently peeling off the corner of the adhesive material, and quickly removing the rest of it with a quick yank; it hurt, but not as much as peeling the bandage off inch-by-inch would have.

Michael winced, breath hitching at the yank, though the sharp sting was almost pleasant in the weirdest sort of ways. "Ow." He muttered, but sent Ryan a smirk anyway.

"It wouldn't hurt so much if it wasn't stuck to you with dried blood," Ryan retorted. He quickly worked his way through the rest of the cuts on Michael's stomach. He sponged them off gently with the washcloth, cleaning away the blood and grime that had managed to creep its way under the bandages.

Michael wiggled his hips slightly as the man worked on scrubbing the blood off. It was almost relaxing and he was content to just focus on the man's hands.

Ryan set the washcloth aside, tracing his fingers lightly over the healing wounds. He wished he could decorate Michael's chest with a few more lacerations, but perhaps now wasn't the time. "I need you to roll over so that I can get to the others," he murmured, tugging gently at the elastic of the man's boxers.

Michael nodded, leaning forward to press their lips together heatedly before flipping over to give him the room to work.

Ryan slipped Michael's boxers down to his knees, grimacing at the bloody bandages covering his knife work. He peeled off the ones on the man's left side, wiping them thoroughly with the wash cloth. "Next time I see Ray, I'm going to teach him a lesson about caring for wounds," the older man muttered.

"They hurt a lot actually." Michael mumbled honestly, it was the truth too. They felt raw, but he assumed that was just from the placement of them. It was bound to hurt differently from the chest wounds.

"I'm sorry," Ryan murmured, tracing his fingers gently over the cuts. The bruises Jackson's hands had left were fading slightly, but they were still visible where the older man hadn't sliced over them. He'd told Michael it would hurt, but he probably didn't know how much.

"That's okay. I asked you to. I like them more now." Michael mumbled, shivering slightly when the man's fingers traced them. He let out a slight moan, cutting it off before he embarrassed himself.

Ryan chuckled, leaning over to remove the bandages from Michael's other hip. "Honestly, I'm surprised how much you like them. Never took you for a masochist," he began cleaning the wounds, scrubbing a little harder to get a reaction. For most people, blood and knives made the possibility of death all too real. He'd been to a few BDSM clubs, but the only person he'd ever met who was both attractive to him, and interested, had been Victoria. And that was because she /wanted/ to die.

Michael let out a half cry, half moan at the scrubbing. Torn between enjoying it and wanting it to stop, he wasn't shocked even his own body didn't know what to like. "Never really tried it, I guess.." Michael knew Jackson sometimes got off on his pain, but it wasn't ever really correctly done and Michael was simply always chasing a high.

"Mm, I keep forgetting you're practically vanilla," Ryan murmured, taking the roll of bandages from the coffee table and patching Michael up once more. The younger man was amazing, and Ryan often forgot their 7 year age gap when his experienced mouth was wrapped around Ryan's cock. He realized now that most of that experience came from years of being forced to please Jackson.

Michael blushed lightly at that, sending a mock glare his way. He sat back up once Ryan was done bandaging them. "I'm not vanilla." He huffed out, gnawing on his bottom lip. It was true though, Michael wasn't the most experienced when it came to sex, a few hook ups were about the extent that he went.

"Yes, you are," Ryan teased, pulling Michael's boxers back up. He got up from his seat on the edge of the couch, tugging gently at the man's shoulders to get him to roll back over so that Ryan could finish. "It's not a bad thing, though," he shrugged. Some people had a lot of sex, some people had none; it was nothing to be ashamed of, whatever shade of kinky you were.

Michael obliged, giving Ryan a roll of his eyes as he did so. "Didn't realize I was in the presence of a sex God, tell me your ways. Oh experienced one." He muttered cheekily, running his fingers gently through Ryan's locks.

Ryan chuckled, leaning in to kiss him before sitting back on the edge of the couch. He tore off another bandage, laying it over the cut on Michael's sternum. "Don't get cheeky with me, or I'll pull out the toys," he teased.

Michael flushed visibly, he had to admit he was curious to say the least. "You would have toys." He muttered, shaking his head at Ryan's attitude.

Ryan grinned, sticking a bandage to the last of Michael's wounds and kissing him on the cheek. "Scoot over; I want to finish my coffee," he murmured, not bothering to actually move to grab the mug, instead leaning over Michael and enjoying the intimacy of the moment.

Michael wound an arm around the man's neck, pulling him closer instead and letting their lips   
press together. He bit lightly at the man's lower lip, figuring there wasn't really any harm in a bit of a make out session. He carded his fingers through the man's hair and let them scratch lightly against his scalp.

 

Ryan leaned into the kiss, returning Michael's bite with one of his own. He was half on top of the younger man when he heard a yawn, and then a curse. He looked up to see a blushing Geoff standing in the mouth of the halfway. "Uh.., Fuck. Sorry." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking away from the couple.

Michael glanced over when Ryan did, flushing visibly from the embarrassment and shooting Geoff a slightly apologetic smile. The situation felt entirely too awkward and it made Michael shift uncomfortably. He pushed Ryan back off of him gently, coughing once. "Did you sleep well?" He mused carefully, taking in the man's bed head and now blushing face.

"Yeah... Fine," Geoff muttered. He couldn't help but feel jealous of Ryan; his protective instincts were screaming at him to snatch Michael away from the psychopath, and yet the younger man was making out with him on the couch. Ryan stood up, silently pouring Geoff a cup of coffee, which the tattooed man took without a word.

"That's good." Michael sent a grin towards him, honestly just trying to get rid of some of the awkward tension that was floating around the room. The word /whore/ was ringing across his mind and he tried to sedate it by curling up further into the couch.

Ryan chewed his lip for a moment, staring intently at the older man. Geoff fidgeted under the gaze, instinctively moving to cross his arms over his tattooed chest. Finally, Ryan let out a small sigh, putting a hand on Geoff's shoulder, "Take him home. I'm almost out of bandages anyways." He wasn't really a caretaker- the other man was.

Geoff's eyes widened at the offer. There was nothing that he wanted more than to curl up with Michael on his couch and watch Always Sunny reruns, but he gave the auburn-haired man a guilty glance before turning back to Ryan. "Are you sure? I mean… You guys were kind of…" He made a vague, yet crude gesture with his hands that made Ryan chuckle.

Michael gritted his teeth, sitting there on the couch while others discussed who he was going to be with, had memories running straight through him. He couldn't remember how many times he'd sat on a couch, just listening for where exactly he was being dragged off to next. 'take him back. We can't handle another like him.' It was always the same thing and even now, his life mirrored what was always around. The only difference was the one that he'd actually let himself become attached to Ryan, to need the constant comfort of the man, and it just stung that much when he pushed him off to someone else.

"Look, as much as I'd love to fuck him on the couch again, I don't think you really want to see that." Geoff flushed, cringing slightly, "But it's not really my decision whether you stay or go- it's Michael's. You love him, you care about him, you aren't going to hurt him- or if you do, I'll do the same thing to you as I did to Jackson." It was a casual threat, but it made the tattooed man shiver and take a few steps backwards nonetheless.

Michael had tuned them out quickly, not really itching to hear the conversation between the two of them. Especially if it revolved around him. He forced back the tears, moving the palms of his hands up to rub furiously at his eyes. He wasn't a /fucking/ object, and no one really seemed to be into playing babysitter when they were off murdering Jackson. He stood up sharply, not even so much as making eye contact with the two as he searched for his sweats, tugging them up over his hips as quickly as he could manage. He grabbed his shirt from the floor, not bothering to put it on until he actually got outside. He stormed his way to the door, fingers fumbling across the locks as his breathing started to turn erratic.

Ryan's head snapped towards the door, eyes widening when he saw Michael scrabbling with the locks. He hesitated, unsure if the man should just be left alone, or if he was still worked up enough to be a danger to himself. Geoff, however, had no such qualms, and was at the door in a flash. He wrapped his arms around the younger man, gently restraining him until he could figure out what the hell was wrong. "Michael- Michael, calm down. Talk to me, buddy."

Michael still tried to struggle out of the man's grasp, tears flooding past his cheeks as he kept his focus on the door. "I-I'm not a fucking object! S-s-stop exchanging me! Just let me go, I"m fine on my own." He thrashed his body harshly, twisting his body as much as possible. "Just fucking tell me if you don't want me. I can handle it!" He flicked his gaze to Ryan's for only a second before continuing to try to elbow Geoff.

Geoff was about to snap back an angry retort about just how fucking stupid the younger man was being, when Ryan stepped in beside him, taking Michael's face firmly in his hands as the tattooed man held him close. "Michael, we aren't exchanging you. We are trying to figure out what the hell you want. You don't tell us- won't tell us- so we have to figure it out on our own. We both want you, but we- well, at least I- know that you care about both of us. We don't want to be unfair to you." He stared calmly into the other man's eyes, practically forcing Michael to take in what he was saying.

Michael stopped thrashing once Ryan started talking, eyes blinking up at him as he tried to catch his breath. The tears hadn't stopped falling, the sudden intrusions of memories featuring just how many times people had given up on him had him feeling lost and hurt. He wanted to speak and sob and tell them every ounce of what he was feeling, but the words stopped before they even left his throat.

Ryan let go of Michael's chin, putting a hand on Geoff's arm and gently pulling him away from the younger man, "Let him go, Geoff. Give him space." The tattooed man nodded, stepping back a pace, staring at Michael with a supremely worried expression.

Michael let himself sink to the floor, hands instinctively moving to clutch at his head as he brought his knees closer to himself. He counted his breathing, steadying it as much as possible. "I was fucking seven." He murmured, probably too quiet for them to hear, but still he continued. "I was seven years old when someone first gave me back. They told me that," Michael gave out an almost bitter laugh. "That we just needed a break, like they were fucking breaking up with me, or something." He shook his head once, another slight laugh falling from his throat. "They adopted one of the boys in my room not a week later." He wasn't sure why he was telling them this, it wasn't much at all in the grand scheme of things, but it was /something/.

Geoff and Ryan exchanged a glance, sitting down almost simultaneously and waiting for the man to continue. Geoff crossed his legs, and then uncrossed them- he wasn't as flexible as he used to be. Ryan sat on his knees, as if he was ready to jump up at any moment.

"I don't even know what I did wrong that first time, I barely said a word to anyone. The other kids they had were pricks, but I dealt with it because I wanted what they had so bad." Michael murmured, glancing at the two of them as they listened. It felt odd, just unloading his life on them. "After that, I just got more and more numb to the rejection. They always did it the same way, a social worker would come to check up on me, they had to do that monthly anyway. And they'd talk to me, make sure the parents never hit me or touched me or anything. And then we'd all talk, and then they'd walk a few feet from me and discuss me leaving. I just..." Michael shrugged lightly, glancing away.

Geoff nodded. He understood why Michael had grown so attached to Jackson; the man had been the only constant force in his life, at least the only one that wasn't malevolent. You could grow attached to that force, depend on it, and convince yourself that it was the only thing that would /ever/ remain in your life. Even when it began to sour, you wouldn't do anything. In your mind, there was no where else to go.

Michael sniffled and rubbed at his eyes, "I know you guys aren't like the foster homes, but sometimes that's all I expect. I'm sorry." He murmured carefully, a little too hesitant compared to his earlier attitude.

"It's okay," Geoff soothed, sliding his hand across the flood until it was near enough for Michael to reach out and touch, if he wanted. "Shit's confusing and scary, and memories don't help… But if you'd just talk to us…" He noticed how easily 'us' slipped out, as if it was becoming a default.

Michael brought his gaze to Geoff sharply, eyes squinting. "I'm fucking /trying./" He seethed out a little harsher than he expected, making no move to grab Geoff's hand.

Geoff pulled back, looking hurt and a bit angry, but Ryan stepped in before he could open his mouth. "He means you're reactionary; you don't tell us how you're feeling until the bottle you keep your emotions in explodes like a molotov cocktail. You wait for us to ask what you want, rather than telling us. We don't always know what the right questions are, Michael."

"I don't know what I want." Michael admitted honestly, lacing his fingers back in the strands of his hair. The truth was he wanted both of them to stay with him until he stopped having nightmares and flashbacks like crazy. He wanted Geoff's hugs, and Ryan's calming voice. He wanted them both and even he knew it was unrealistic.

"We'll start with that, then," Geoff murmured, putting a trace of humor into his tone. Ryan's calm rationality affected him almost as much as it affected Michael, and he understood the man's appeal. He made everything sound so clear cut and simple.

Michael let out a slightly frustrated groan, letting himself fall back against the flooring. He didn't understand how they were supposed to get anywhere when Michael didn't even understand his own feelings.

Geoff snickered good-naturedly at the sound, "How about we start with 'Do you want to stay with me or Ryan for the next day or so?' Because I'm not staying over here again- it was fucking weird. No offense," he added, turning to the psychopath who shrugged.  
"None taken."

Michael grimaced, he felt like he was choosing favorites and it absolutely sucked. "I don't know." He muttered out quietly. He glanced between the two of them nervously. "I really fucking don't know."

Ryan chuckled, "That's why we were deciding in the first place. If you wanna go with Geoff, you're not going to hurt my feelings, though." Everybody had their strengths, and sometimes you wanted one person more than another.

"Same," Geoff shrugged, though it wasn't true. He was green to the fucking gills.

Michael weighed his options, staying at Ryan's would be nice and quiet, but he'd been over for a few days and he was sure the man was probably pretty tired. And Geoff was nice and warm, but he'd have to deal with Gavin and what if Geoff got angry.. He ran a hand across his forehead, he had barely given Geoff a chance to care for him... "I'll go with Geoff then..."

Geoff fought the urge to yell "Take that!" in Ryan's face. He scooted slightly closer to Michael, putting a gentle hand on the man's shoulder. Fuck, he'd missed Michael- it had only been two days, but he missed the man so goddamn much. He resolved that they'd cuddle on the couch for at least an hour when they got home- or fuck. Either/or.

Michael shot a glance at Ryan, hoping it conveyed at least a little of his slight regret. He moved to get up, running a hand across his neck. He really felt a need to tell Ryan he wasn't choosing Geoff over him, but he wasn't about to say it in front of Geoff.

Geoff glanced at the two men, before muttering an awkward, "Uh, I'm gonna go get dressed," before heading back towards the bedroom.

Ryan raised an eyebrow at Michael, a small smirk playing around the corners of his mouth. "You should probably put on a shirt before you go," he teased, stepping forwards to cup the man's chin in his hand. He could do this; he could share. It was only fair.

"Probably." Michael murmured lightly, eyes staring up at the older man. He ran a hand across the man's arm, trying to memorize the touch of his skin. "I'm sorry." He wasn't sure what all he felt sorry for but he felt like he had a lot to be sorry for, even if he didn't know what it was.

"Just because I don't like sharing my toys doesn't mean I can't," Ryan chuckled, "I'll miss you, though." He gave Michael a kiss on the cheek. Geoff would probably pamper him, and then Ryan could get back to carving the man open every once in awhile.

Michael looked up, glancing near the hallway to make sure Geoff hadn't come back yet. He hugged Ryan tightly, letting out a slightly hesitant breath. "What if he gets mad?"

Ryan doubted that Geoff would ever purposely hurt Michael, no matter how angry he got, but tried to soothe the man's fears anyways. "You call me, or text me, and I'll come get you. Or, alternately, you get the hell out of there and go home- or here, or Ray's. You don't have to stay with him."

Michael nodded, pressing a light kiss to his cheek before moving back. He grabbed his forgotten shirt off the ground and tugged it over his head. He could do this, he could spend a night away from Ryan that was fine. He'd be fine.

Ryan ruffled the man's hair affectionately, settling back down on the couch and sipping his coffee, novel in hand. It was easier to concentrate on the text now.

Geoff came shuffling out of the hallway, dressed in his same rumpled pants and shirt from the night before. He grabbed his phone and flask form Ryan's end table, and slid on his shoes with a yawn. "Ready to go?" he asked Michael, leaning in to give the man a kiss on the cheek.

Michael slid his own shoes on, patting at the pockets of his sweats for his phone before scanning the room for it, he grabbed it off the counter when he noticed it and slid it into his pocket, turning back to Geoff and nodding. "See you, Ryan." He murmured, opening the door easily now that his hands weren't panicking.

The man gave a soft wave as the pair walked out the door, Geoff closing it behind them. He hooked an arm around Michael's shoulder- protective, but not possessive- and pressed another quick kiss to his cheek as they walked to the elevator. "I fucking missed you."

"You've been with me for the last seven hours Geoff." Michael mumbled moving to nudge his head lightly against the man's shoulder. He pressed the button on the elevator, waiting a few moments for it to arrive before it opened and he moved in.

 

"Okay, yeah…" Geoff admitted, "But we were mostly asleep." /Plus, Ryan was around, and that wasn't really you./ He pressed the button for the ground floor, enjoying the feeling of Michael's warmth against his shoulder as the elevator began to sink downwards.

Michael patted Geoff's stomach with the back of his hand lightly, walking through the elevators door when they opened. He barely paid any attention to the lady at the desk, just walking along with Geoff out to the garage.

Geoff dug his keys out of his pocket, unlocking the car with a press of a button. He honestly didn't want to separate from the man, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Michael's head before he circled around to the driver's side and opened the door. He slid into the seat, putting the key in the ignition and actually bothering to buckle his seatbelt for once.

Michael opened the passenger side door, sliding into the car easily and buckling his seatbelt. He pulled the door closed, laying his head back on the seat and closing his eyes momentarily. "Gavin's angry at me, I think." He mused quietly.

"I think Gavin was almost as worried about you as I was," Geoff commented, pulling out of the garage and heading towards his apartment a little faster than usual. The man hadn't heard from Michael since his phone call, and apparently that had been 'bloody weird,' as the Brit put it.

Michael sighed lightly, moving a hand to rub at his forehead as he blinked at the bright sunlight. He watched the cars absentmindedly, eyes scanning across the scenery of los santos.

Geoff reached forwards to fiddle with the radio, passing by a station that was playing indecipherable rap, flicking over the next one at the first strains of a popular pop song, and settling on a classic rock station. He didn't like driving in silence.

Michael kicked his feet up on the dashboard of the car, adjusting his seat so he could lean further back and close his eyes. He moved his hands to fidget with the loose change sitting in the divider. He chewed harshly on his lower lip, he was a little nervous about going to back to Geoff's apartment after everything happened, but he couldn't even pinpoint why.

Geoff was glad for the light traffic; it was 10am, and most people were already at work by now. He pulled into the garage of his apartment complex, turning off the car and stuffing his keys back into his pocket before unbuckling, and getting out of the car. He opened the passenger door for Michael with a mock bow, trying to ease the nearly-tense silence with humor.

Michael chuckled lightly, moving to stand up with an exaggerated curtsy, or a poor attempt at one. He shut the passenger door with his foot, reaching out to pat lightly at Geoff's face. It turned soft fast, instead stroking his thumb across the man's cheek.

 

Geoff chuckled, stepping forwards and wrapping his arms around Michael in a warm hug. "See, you say I've been with you for the past seven hours, but when you fucking do that- I missed touching you." He wanted to pull the man into a deep kiss, make him forget everything that had happened in the last 48 hours, but he wasn't sure if Michael would appreciate it.

Michael wrapping an arm around his neck, falling into the embrace easily and sliding his other hand up to rest on the other side of Geoff's neck gently. Geoff's touches were always so, he wasn't sure if respectful was the right word but he touched Michael like he mattered and it was definitely /nice/ if nothing else.

Geoff let out a soft sigh, squeezing Michael tightly before letting him go. "We should go upstair- Gav will be wondering what the fuck happened. He hasn't called, so I'm guessing the British twink forgot my number again." He reached down to interlock his fingers with the younger man's, heading towards the elevator, "Plus, we can snuggle on the couch and play Peggle or some shit."

"Fuckin' Peggle, God no. You just want to win. We're playing Left 4 Dead." Michael smirked, letting Geoff tug him to the elevator. He pressed the button of the elevator. He yawned slightly, staring down at his feet mostly.

"Fine," Geoff said in mock-offense, "But I get to be Ellis." He knew he'd probably break down if the younger man argued with him, but he was at least going to take a stand. The doors dinged open, and Geoff stepped inside, pressing the button for his floor and keeping his fingers intertwined with Michael's.

Michael yanked Geoff closer to him once they were inside, wrapping his arms back around him and pressing a light kiss to the man's neck as he leaned back against the wall of the elevator. It wasn't meant to be necessarily sexual, but he wanted the comfort.

Geoff let out a soft giggle, pulling back slightly. The kiss had caught him off guard, and the few tiny beard hairs that had managed to poke their way out of Michael's chin over the last few days tickled his neck. He pressed his lips to the man's instead, passionate and comforting and familiar, even if it had only been a few weeks since he'd first kissed Michael.

Michael smiled against the man's lips, head tilting slightly and enjoying the comfort, pulling away when the elevator doors dinged open. He wound his hand back in Geoff's hand and pulled him towards the door of his apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the support, you guys are the best<3


	34. Chapter 34

Geoff tried the door, finding that it slid open easily; Gavin was home. He briefly wondered whether or not he'd brought his girlfriend (Were they even official yet?) over, before he decided he didn't give a fuck and pulled Michael towards the couch, kicking off his shoes as he went.

Michael slid his own shoes off, eyes glancing around the familiar apartment. He let Geoff pull him over to the couch, glancing up when Gavin entered with a pistol. He lowered it automatically when he saw them, setting it over on one of the random shelves and making his way closer. "A phone call would've been nice." He mused, giving out a relieved sigh. "Hey boi." Gavin greeted, brow furrowing slightly when Michael only managed a weak smile. "Hey Gav."

"Well, if you bothered to memorize anyone's fucking number, I wouldn't need to call," Geoff retorted teasingly, sitting down on the couch and pulling Michael with him. He made sure to leave room for the Brit; the piece of furniture was easily big enough for all three of them. He motioned for Gavin to sit with a nod of his head- he didn't know if Michael wanted do the explaining, or at least talk to him.

"Nah, too much work." Gavin chuckled, moving to sit down on the casually beside Michael. He didn't pester for information, though he was wondering why Geoff ran out of the house like a bat out of hell with hardly as much as a goodbye and why Michael hadn't called, or come back, or done anything really. Michael shifted slightly, biting at his lip as he gripped at Geoff's hand to try to relax a little bit. It was just Gavin, but he still felt awkward now that the man had read most of his documents.

Geoff ran his fingers through Michael's hair, almost entirely focused on the the man's grip on his hand and the way he was shaking slightly. "Do you want to talk about it?" he murmured, soft enough that Gavin could barely hear him.

Michael shook his head, he knew he was still acting differently and that there was no way Gavin wasn't noticing but he didn't want to talk about anything anymore, especially not to Gavin. He tried to take a breath, grimacing when it felt like it got caught in his throat. 

Gavin arched an eyebrow at Geoff, noting Michael's shakiness and prompting the man for some sort of answer.

Geoff's eyes slid over to focus on Gavin, though he never ceased touching Michael, "Michael's ex- the one I put out a hit on- came back. Gave him some ecstasy… fucked him," the tattooed man couldn't quite bring himself to say the word 'rape.' "Ryan and Ray got him away from the house while the bastard was out, protected him until our people found Reed. Then I watched Ryan torture him… He's dead. He's really fucking dead." The last part came out shaky- he still didn't feel right when he thought about it.

 

Michael flinched at the memories, but kept his eyes remaining stony and cold as he stared at the TV. He didn't like feeling weak and he definitely felt weak in front of them right now. 

Gavin widened his eyes a little, taking in most of what Geoff was saying. Now he felt like a prick for their earlier conversation, where he'd just assumed Michael was at Ryan's, but he was probably at home, with his ex. "Oh..oh wow. Shit, I'm sorry Michael." 

Michael turned his eyes to Gavin's sharply. "How many of those documents did you read?"

Geoff grimaced, shooting Gavin a guilty look. He probably shouldn't have implicated the Brit, even if it had been his idea in the first place. Honesty was proving itself to be the best policy all fuckin over again.

Gavin spluttered a bit, shooting Geoff a glance before stuttering over his words slightly. "U-uh, there's a lot of them, I don't know." He held his hands up in surrender, a little afraid of the angering man beside him. 

Michael practically growled, "Why the fuck would you read them? It's my fucking information, my fucking life, my stories. Why the hell do you think you just get a free pass?!" 

Gavin shook his head slightly, "I'm sorry, I was just trying to help." Gavin stood up throwing his hands out beside him. "You won't tell anyone anything, I thought maybe if someone knew you could get over it."

Geoff closed his eyes tightly. /Fuck/ that was the wrong thing to say. Gav had always been an insensitive little prick, though, so he wasn't surprised.

"Right. Get over it." Michael hissed out, standing up as well and keeping his eyes harsh on Gavin's. He would've hit anyone else by now, honestly. But it was Gavin, and he wouldn't seriously hit Gavin.

"Which part? What all do you want me to get over? What about when one of the foster parents thought they knew just how to fix a mouthy nine year old, did you read the hospital documents? You know what doesn't leave scars? Broken bones." Michael had long since started shaking, hands clenching into fists as he glared. "Or what about the shit those documents leave out? Like the time I didn't give my food over to one of the older kids and him and his little groupies took me out to teach me a fucking lesson. I'm sorry I wasn't a privileged little asshole like you!" 

Gavin swallowed, face turning from annoyance straight to apologetic. He remained silent, unsure of what all he was supposed to say.

Geoff swallowed, the sudden desire to pull out his flask and start drinking heavily hitting him hard. Michael wasn't being fair; it wasn't Gav's fault he'd grown up with people who fucking cared about him, but none of this was fair. The fact that Michael had been bowled over by the foster care system wasn't fair, and on top of it, what Jackson had done to him wasn't fair. Geoff remembered what Ray had said during Jackson's "interrogation" and it made his breath hitch and his hand squeeze Michael's more tightly.

Gavin let out a sigh. "I said I was sorry." He tried, eyes glancing up into Michael's. 

"Whatever." Michael growled out, pressing himself back against the couch and bringing his legs up to his chest. "Just don't fucking tell anyone what's on them." 

Gavin nodded quickly. "Yeah, yeah of course."

Geoff let out a sigh, rubbing his face with a hand and casting Gavin a desperate look and mouthing "You might wanna go." He needed to talk to Michael anyways; tell him that he knew about… stuff. Stuff he'd found out when Ryan was ripping Jackson apart with a knife and his words.

Gavin nodded briefly, pulling out his phone and moving to the door. He'd just call Meg, he needed the distraction anyway. To say that Michael was emotional right now was an understatement, he slid his shoes on and opened the door, stepping out and letting it shut behind him. 

Michael huffed loudly, trying desperately to sink even further back into the couch.

Geoff let out a soft sigh, releasing Michael's hand and stroking his hair instead. "Fuck… I know you're angry, but we need to talk about… about shit I know. Because I don't want to- to fucking lie to you again, even by omission." He sounded like a goddamn teenage girl, and he hated the quiver in his voice.

Michael let out an audible groan, moving to lie back on the couch and set his feet in the older man's lap. It wasn't like he had many secrets anymore. "Alright." He ran a hand across his face and waited for the man to speak.

Geoff chewed his lower lip, not looking at Michael as he spoke, "So… Ryan. He's not very- He… I don't know how to fucking say this. When he was… cutting up Jackson, it was like he was putting him on trial or some bullshit. Ray- Ray said stuff… I don't really want to get into the details." A shiver ran through him at the memory of Ryan and his bloody knife.

Michael watched Geoff talk, wincing only slightly. He'd seen Ryan work before, he hadn't really expected much more than the worse from him. He was curious about which of his secrets Ray talked about, but he didn't want to make Geoff say it if he didn't want to. "It's fine, I'm not hiding shit from you anymore."

 

"Okay… Okay, cool," Geoff breathed, the casual statement out of place in their serious conversation. He was glad Michael wasn't going to make him say it- thinking about it was bad enough. Once again, he was hit with the urge to pull the man into a deep kiss, pressing his lips to every area that had ever been slighted and cleanse them of remembered bruises. It wouldn't work- couldn't work- but he wanted to kiss Michael until he knew how much he mattered, so he did, wrapping his arms around the man and gently pressing their mouths together.

Michael responded to the kiss easily, pulling Geoff closer and forcing him to lay on top of him, letting their legs tangle together. It was good for his anger, the soft kisses causing his shaking to cease. He tugged his fingers into the man's hair gently, it was always so different with Geoff, everything was gentle and slow and precise.

Geoff moved from Michael's mouth to the edge of his jaw, kissing up to nip gently at his ear and even pressing a kiss near the corner of his eye, remembering the black eye the man had been sporting after the incident with the RWBY gang. He pulled away, cupping Michael's cheek in one hand. "I love you… I fucking love you, Michael Jones," he murmured. He wanted the younger man to feel it- know it every time Geoff touched him.

Michael giggled lightly, blinking up at him when he started speaking. It gave his stomach a fluttering sort of feeling, and he was quick to press a kiss back to the man's lips. It felt nice to have someone say it, and seriously actually mean it.

"Fuck you, idiot. I do," Geoff mumbled against his lips, laughing. Michael's moods were contagious. He pulled back again, quickly kissing the man's nose. "I love you so fucking much. I love you enough that you can be Ellis in Left 4 Dead if you really want to. Or we could play something else- do whatever." Michael could ask him to belly dance until 3am, and he'd bitch and he'd moan, but he'd still fucking do it.

Michael let out a laugh. "I don't fucking care. Get the game set up." He smirked, fully prepared to take his anger out on a bunch of mindless zombies. He pushed Geoff off of him, already standing up to go grab a soda.

"Get me a beer," Geoff called after him, getting up to turn on the Xbox and slip the disk in. He grabbed two controllers from the coffee table, making sure that Michael didn't get the one with the sticky right trigger, no matter that the younger man's rage is what had gotten it into that state in the first place.

Michael bent over the fridge, reaching in to grab out a beer and one of Gavin's red bulls. He pulled back and shut it with his foot, stretching as he made his way back over to the couch and flopping on to the cushiony material. He handed Geoff the beer, exchanging it for the controller and setting it on his lap while he opened the tab of the red bull and drank a sip.

 

Geoff selected the Dark Carnival map, and they spent an hour and a half running through it on expert. It was nice; just the two of them playing video games like they used to, before all the fucking drama. His smile got a little wider every time Michael yelled at Coach to "reload faster you fat motherfucker" and by the end of it, though Michael had far more kills than him, he felt like he was on top of the fucking world.

Michael grinned when the map ended, proud of the scoreboard and flashing Geoff a bragging smirk. "I got more kills than you, I fucking carried us that entire round." He set his controller down, stretching his arms up over his head and letting his muscles pop nicely.

"What, did you expect me to do it? Nah, too much work. I have to keep out of the line of fire so I can save your ass," Geoff retorted, downing the last of his (second) beer and tossing his controller on the coffee table. "What do you wanna do now?"

"I don't care." Michael mused, shrugging his shoulders and letting himself fall backwards on Geoff's lap, eyes staring up at him and smile forming on his lips. It was nice to have a simple routine going again, playing video games casually and just lounging together.

Geoff grinned, the Michael's position reminding him of all the game nights and afternoons they'd spent like this, and how desperately the tattooed man had always wanted to kiss him when he was all spread out and comfortable like this. Now, he finally could. He leaned down, slotting their mouths together in a lazy kiss, his tongue tracing Michael's bottom lip like he wanted to memorize the plump curve of it.

Michael grinned into the kiss, opening his mouth to let Geoff explore it, he tugged a hand up into his hair, trying to deepen the kiss more. He adjusted his position, resting his elbows on Geoff's leg to lift himself up a little.

Geoff kissed the man heatedly, before pulling away, one hand skimming over Michael's chest and slipping up underneath his shirt. "Do you know… how long I've wanted to do this?" he murmured, panting slightly, "Ever since you were fucking 24 and I was 36- I felt like such a damn pervert. You were living with me, in my fucking house. I saw you every goddamn day and fuck- do you remember the time I caught you jerking off? God that stuck with me… Kept me going for ages. Couldn't imagine the sounds you'd make if it was me touching you…" He nipped at Michael's neck, the memories washing over him making his cock twitch.

Michael groaned at the man's words, body shivering from the light bites to his neck and the feeling of Geoff's hands across his stomach. "Would've let you touch me," Michael grunted back, he had to admit he'd sort of always had a crush on Geoff, and he could remember just how embarrassed he'd been. "You shouldn't have left."

Geoff paused momentarily, leaning back to look Michael in the eyes. "Really?" The man had been… Well, not innocent. He'd never been innocent, not since Geoff had known him. But he'd been angry and brash, but with a tinge of shyness that hadn't gone away for years. He'd always told himself that Michael would have told him, sauntered right up to him and whispered dirty things in his ear, if he'd wanted Geoff to fuck him. He'd thought that the younger man was just following his lead…

"Yeah, I didn't think you had any interest in me, you left so fast." Michael laughed, shaking his head back and forth lightly. The entire situation seemed funny now. "You're my boss, after all." He smirked, moving so that he could sit up on Geoff's lap. "Plus, you always had someone else to fuck, so.."

Geoff snickered, nipping at the younger man's jaw line, "I was afraid I was gonna fucking jump you. I went straight to go jerk off in the shower, imagining what it would be like to get my mouth around your dick. I tried to distract myself; get my kicks out with dudes, convince myself that I liked pussy better- should've known that wouldn't work. Eventually I just started fucking whoever so I wouldn't frickin'… corrupt you." He laughed; the thought seemed absurd now.

Michael leant his head back, giving Geoff more room to nip at his jaw. He let out an almost bitter laugh. "I was corrupted way before you came." He ground his hips down playfully, tugging his fingers in the man's hair.

"I know that now… But, fuck… You were just a kid. I felt like some sort of pervy uncle. Worst part was, you'd bring someone home and I could fucking /hear/ you," Geoff shivered at the memories. He'd glared daggers at whatever bastard had bedded Michael the night before, forcing them out of the apartment when they didn't slip out on their own. He'd felt so selfish, but he wanted to be the one making Michael fucking beg. It was almost worse when the noises had been decidedly lackluster- Geoff knew he could have done so much better… made the younger man scream.

Michael almost wanted to laugh at the fact that he felt pervy when Jackson had started fucking him when he was seventeen. He brought their lips together, hands moving up to hold the man's face. "But, you have me now."

"Fuck yeah, I do," Geoff murmured into the kiss. He'd be the only one making Michael beg and squirm and cum his pants… Well, except Ryan. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. He pulled back, looking at the younger man seriously, "Okay. Just- I have to ask. Is he better than me?" He felt like some sort of caveman, needing to prove himself as some sort of fucking Alpha male.

Michael flushed more at that, shaking his head. "No, no. He's different. You're both different." Michael murmured, pressing his lips harsher into Geoff's to back it up.

"That sounds like some sort of fucking code," Geoff mumbled, but kissed back anyways. Another thought came to him, and he pulled away again. "Is his dick bigger than mine?" What kind of jealous douchebag was he? Still… He kind of was one.

Michael laughed again, shaking his head. "No, Geoff." He moved back to kiss at his lips, pressing his hands along the man's hips. "Jesus just compare them next time you see him or something."

"I bet it is. I bet he has a giant fucking cock and is good with knives and that's why you like him," Geoff teased, threading his fingers through Michael's hair and pulling the man closer. He nipped at the younger man's lip, tongue delving in to explore Michael's mouth.

Michael moaned into his mouth, disregarding the man's teasing to instead grind his hips down. He slid his hands under Geoff's shirt, massaging the skin lightly.

Geoff let out a breathy sound, arching his hips up into Michael's, "Fuck… Holy fuck. God, I wanna touch you…" he breathed, sliding one hand up to caress the skin on the man's back, the other cupping his ass and giving it a light squeeze.

Michael groaned, setting two fingers on his chin and pushing his head to the side so that he could kiss along his neck. "So touch me." He mumbled, nipping lightly on his neck before tracing his tongue across the skin.

Geoff let Michael's fingers manipulate him like he was putty, moaning at the feeling of the younger man's tongue. He slipped one hand under the waistband of Michael's sweatpants, fiddling with the elastic of his boxers for a moment, before sliding his hand under them too. He teased the rim of the man's hole with his middle finger; he couldn't finger Michael without lube, but he could drive him absolutely wild.

"Jesus, fuck... Geoff." He moaned out, hips wiggling slightly at the feeling. He was already hard in his boxers and Geoff was just working him up more. He pressed kisses along the man's shoulder, tonguing lightly at the crooks of his collar bone.

"Bedroom… Fuck," Geoff almost whimpered, removing his hand from the younger man's pants. He couldn't help but circle his hips upward, grinding against Michael almost desperately; he was torn between wanting the man to get off him so that they could move to the bedroom, and simply rutting upwards mindlessly until he fucking came in his pants.

Michael smirked at Geoff's frantic hips, pressing a light kiss to his cheek before pressing his mouth to his ear. "Bet I could get you off right here, bet I could make you cum in your boxers like a fucking teenager." He hissed out huskily, but moved further off of him.

"God… Yeah, you fuckin' could," Geoff groaned, standing up, Michael still pressed against him- stuck between the tattooed man's chest and the coffee table. "And I'd love it too, but then you'd have to wait half an hour for me to fuck you." He pressed an open mouthed kiss to Michael's lips, sliding his hands around to rest at the small of the other man's back.

 

Michael licked at Geoff's bottom lip, already pushing him in the direction of his bedroom. Michael remained pressed up against him, hands sliding to try to tug off his shirt as they went. "Random question, what's the weirdest place you've fucked someone?"

Geoff shed his shirt easily, pulling at Michael's as he walked backwards towards the bedroom, finding his way mostly by instinct. "Uhm… Like actually /fucked/ or?" He was wracking his brain, and mostly coming up with a few flashes of memory from when he'd been completely smashed.

"Or well, like done anything sexual really? I guess." Michael murmured, for him it was probably either sucking off Jackson in his office, or when the man had fucked him in a dingy alleyway, or that time with the cop.. Neither of those had left Michael feeling very good. He was sure Geoff had more experience, maybe not as kinky as Ryan but definitely more experienced Michael.

"I… I think I sucked off this chick with a cock in this fancy strip club/bar sort of place… Like, in front of people. I was reeeeally drunk," Geoff admitted with a rueful smile, pulling Michael towards his bedroom. He only remembered bits and pieces- mostly that she had been hot as fuck, and that he'd gotten like 3 people to cheer him on. Also, he vaguely recalled doing a body shot off someone. It was probably the craziest party he'd ever been to, and he honestly regretted his tendency to drink until he passed out; he really wished he could remember more of it.

"Damn.." Michael muttered, glancing around Geoff's room momentarily before bringing his lips back to Geoff's. Sometimes he hated his lack of experience, it was mostly just embarrassing; the fact that he'd really never tried many things besides the normal.

Geoff shrugged; he was the leader of a gang, he went to crazy parties and did crazy shit because he had a good enough reputation, enough money, and big enough balls. "Like I said; I was fucking drunk as dicks." He kissed the other man slowly, sliding his tongue languidly into Michael's mouth as he backed towards the bed.

Michael let Geoff's mouth explore his own, smiling against his lips when they collapsed on the bed in a tangled mess of limbs. He knew he wasn't as confident as before, the stuff with Jackson had really fucked up most things.

Geoff nipped at the younger man's lips, then his jaw and neck, tracing his tongue over the hollow of Michael's neck. He pinched one of the man's nipples lightly, thumb teasing the bud as he sucked a hickey into Michael's skin and ground against him. "What do you want to do?" he looked up, pressing another quick kiss to the skin he'd marked. He didn't want to overstep his bounds, especially when the other man was bandaged up like this.

Michael responded to the touches with a few breathy little moans, head falling back to rest against the mattress. "I want you to fuck me." Michael whined out, hips wiggling underneath him.

 

"Mm… Can I suck you off first?" Geoff asked, kissing is way down Michael's stomach. He wasn't lying when he said he wanted to touch Michael; the feel of his lips on the man's skin was fucking amazing, and he briefly wondered if he had an oral fixation, or just a fixation with Michael in general.

Michael took a second to remember that he was with Geoff and there was more than just being fucked and sucking someone off. "Uh, I'm definitely not going to say no to that." He slid a hand up to rest gently on Geoff's head, threading his fingers through his hair.

Geoff tugged down Michael's sweats, and his boxers with them, letting the man's semi-hard cock spring free of it's confines. He was momentarily surprised at the lack of hair at it's base, but remembered that Michael had been Jackson's 'baby boy' and decided not to comment. He propped himself on his elbows, kissing the tip of the younger man's cock and darting out his tongue to lick teasingly at the head, remembering those long ago jerk-off sessions in the shower when he imagined doing just this.

Michael was more than responsive, shivering lightly at the kiss before groaning and attempting to lift his hips up. "God... Geoff, jesus.." He knew he was flushing now, body heating up harshly as he glanced down at the man.

"Don't forget the Holy Spirit," Geoff cracked, glancing up at Michael with hooded eyes, "You know, the holy- what's the word for trinity except with four?" He didn't wait for a response, hollowing his cheeks and taking the man's cock into his mouth. He tongued the slit, sucking harshly as he looked up at Michael with a lustful, but affectionate gaze.

Michael rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to tell him to shut up, exchanging the words for a slightly high pitched moan. He bucked his hips up unintentionally, hands gripping into the man's hair and squinting his face slightly, he'd almost forgotten how talented Geoff could be with his mouth.

Geoff gagged slightly at the unexpected thrust, but quickly pulled back enough to get his bearings. He took a breath in through his nose, willing his throat to relax as he took more of Michael into his mouth until the younger man's cock hit the back of his throat and he swallowed reflexively. Fuck… the sounds Michael made were fucking beautiful.

"Holy fuck... Your mouth feels amazing..." Michael moaned out, trying to still his own hips as he gripped at the man's hair, tugging at the strands. "I-I can't, can't last." He mumbled, more than embarrassed at his quick inability to hold off.

Geoff pulled off with an obscene pop, pressing another quick kiss to Michael's dick. "Fuck… you're so sensitive," he murmured, though really it was one of the things he loved about the man; the more worked up he was, the louder he became. He half wanted to buy Michael a cock ring, just so that he could work him over for more than a few minutes, but he wasn't sure if the man would be up for the idea.

Michael pouted out his bottom lip, slapping his palm gently across Geoff's cheek. "Can't help it." He muttered. Blushing harshly as he moved his hand to palm Geoff through his pants.

"Well how am I supposed to fuck you senseless for hours on end when I can't even deep throat you without you almost cumming?" Geoff murmured teasingly, grinding into Michael's hand. "I won’t eat you out until you- ah- can't fucking move without wriggling," he emphasized the point by nipping at the man's neck, his breath quickening as he began to move his hips faster.

"At least it doesn't take me two hours to get it back up, old man." Michael chuckled out, tugging the man's pants and boxers lower, instantly wrapping a hand around him and beginning to stroke languidly.

Any witty retort Geoff might have had was cut off by a moan as he thrust into the circle of the man's fingers. "Fuck… Holy shit, Michael… So fucking good." He honestly didn't care if he came right now; he could finish Michael off any number of ways and the friction felt so damn good.

Michael wanted to laugh, wasn't he the one just complaining about him not having restraint? "I'm barely touching you, Geoff." Michael muttered, twisting his hand before shoving Geoff back against the pillows with a firm hand on his chest. He brought his lips down to lick a stripe up the underside of Geoff's cock, making sure to ghost his warm breath across the head.

"Fucking- touch me more then," Geoff retorted, shifting his hips and closing his eyes at the heat of Michael's breath. "Do whatever the hell you want… God, you're fucking perfect; do anything."

Michael smirked at the praise, mouthing at the head of the man's cock before opening his mouth and stretching his lips around him. He fought the urge to do it by muscle memory, instead taking his time to swipe his tongue around him when he hollowed his cheeks. He made sure to fight back his gag reflex, moaning around Geoff's cock to send vibrations along him.

Geoff's eyes practically rolled back in his head, and he grabbed Michael's hair to resist thrusting into the man's mouth. A slew of praise and obscenities rolled from his mouth, practically silently begging Michael to take over and do whatever the fuck he wanted.

Michael blinked up at him, flinching when he saw Jackson and not Geoff, he was thankful when it faded, mouth still working around him habitually. Michael trailed his hands across his thighs, moving one up to fondle his balls gently. He hated to admit that he was running on autopilot.

"Fuck- Michael, stop. I'm gonna cum," Geoff breathed, tugging at the man's curls. "Jesus… I wanna kiss you, fucking touch you… You're so fucking perfect- please…" The last word was almost a whimper. When he was younger, he'd never imagined that he'd be begging someone to /stop/ sucking him off, but Michael was so damn gorgeous and he didn't want this to end.

Michael pulled off of him with a pop, closing his eyes for a moment to reestablish where he was and who he was with. He moved up Geoff's chest, biting at his skin lightly until he reached his face. "Now who's the sensitive one?" He mocked, smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Geoff leaned in to bite at Michael's neck- a small act of revenge. "Yeah, well. You and your fucking perfect mouth. Gonna fuck you 'til you can't think straight." He reached out to the side, one arm grasping for the drawer of his bedside table. He managed to find the handle, pulling it open and fumbling blindly through the contents.

Michael tilted his head, letting Geoff bite at his neck as he waited for him to find the stuff he needed. He ground his hips down lightly, trying to speed the fumbling man up. The words /whore/ rang through his mind and he fought it back viciously, this was not the time to cave over into the other section of his mind. This was Geoff, not Jackson. He made sure not to make any notice to his inner questioning, instead placing his hands on the man's neck and rubbing along the skin. "Want you, Geoff, please."

Geoff managed to grasp a condom and bottle of lube from the drawer, sitting up slightly and giving Michael a peck on the lips. "Want you too… Fuck, you're gorgeous." He cupped the man's chin, stroking his thumb over Michael's cheek. "How do you want to do this?"

Michael moved to lay back, he definitely didn't feel like getting on his hands and knees, whatever they did it was incredibly important he actually saw Geoff's face. He pulled Geoff closer to him, wiggling his hips and prompting Geoff to get him ready.

Geoff knelt in between the man's legs pouring lube onto his fingers and taking a moment to warm it up, before moving to tease the man's entrance. He circled his finger around the tight ring of muscle, frowning slightly. "You're kind of tense," he murmured, leaning forwards to kiss Michael's stomach, looking up at the man with a concerned expression.

Michael winced lightly, mostly at the man's words, he'd been expecting it but it was still frustrating to say the least. "Sorry." He muttered, trying to focus on relaxing his body. He ran a hand through Geoff's hair lightly, almost apologizing with his touches.

"Don't be. It's just- is something wrong?" He didn't pull his hand away, but he paused, pressing placating kisses to Michael's skin. He didn't want the man to be uncomfortable, and he wasn't sure if he'd done anything wrong. He wracked his brain for any triggering phrases he might have used, and came up blank.

Michael shook his head, shivering slightly at the contact. "No, no. You're great, I'm fine." He wiggled his hips down slightly after taking a few seconds to let his body relax.

Geoff looked doubtful, but gently slid a finger into Michael anyways. He hooked it slightly as he thrust it in and out of the man, searching for the spot that would make Michael see stars. He wanted to ease the tension that had begun to cloud the air.

Michael let out a moan, hips rising slightly as he worked a finger into him. He shifted again, body wiggling responsively when Geoff found the bundle of nerves. "F-fuck." He whined out, fingers gripping tighter in the man's hair as his hips grinding back down unto him.

Geoff groaned softly; Michael made the best fucking noises. He slowly worked in another finger, scissoring them apart to stretch the man. His other hand stroked Michael rhythmically, thumbing the head every time his fingers brushed over the man's prostate; he wanted Michael to come apart at the seams.

Michael's eyes rolled up as he let his head fall back onto the pillows, hips bucking up to meet Geoff's hand. "G-god, fuck..." He moaned out, mouth opening and breathy whines falling from them as his fingers clutched desperately on to Geoff's hair. "Feels so good, fuckin' so good, ah." He felt the shivers wracked through him, legs starting to tremble.

Geoff shuddered, sliding a third finger into Michael and pumping them slowly. His own, neglected cock was achingly hard, but he didn't dare remove his hand from the other man's dick for fear that the loss of contact would stop Michael's moans. "Jesus, fuck… You're so motherfucking hot…"

Michael groaned at the words, hands sliding down across Geoff's body greedily. He trailed his fingertips across his hips, before stroking him gently. He palmed his other hand across the bed, gripping at the condom wrapper and tearing it open with his teeth before stroking him harsher for a moment. Thumb teasing over the head, and then sliding the condom on.

Geoff let out a noise that was half moan, half curse, pulling his fingers out of Michael and slicking his cock with the remaining lube. "Michael… Fuck, Michael. Can you-" He scooted back, moving his legs out from under him so that he was sitting with them spread slightly. "Want you on top of me," he murmured, beckoning the younger man forward with a twitch of his fingers.

Michael obliged easily, scooting forward to sit on top of him. He braced himself by placing his hands on Geoff's hips, grinding himself down teasingly before making sure he was lined up and starting to sink down slowly. He gnawed on his bottom lip in concentration, successfully biting back a moan as he sunk downwards. He took in Geoff's faces, hand moving to tease lightly at the man's nipple as he seated himself completely.

Geoff's eyelids fluttered as he let out a shaky breath, his voice barely more than a whisper at first. "Fuck… Holy fucking shit, Michael. You're so fucking tight- fucking perfect." The last few words were a loud moan as the tattooed man canted his hips upwards, trying to bury himself more deeply in the heat that was Michael Jones.

Michael smiled at Geoff's noises, moving a hand up to touch his fingertips against the man's lips lightly. He raised his hips up slightly before bringing them back down, starting a slow rhythm as he rode the man below him. He gripped harsher into Geoff's hip, a few husky moans leaving his throat.

Geoff breathed out an "Oh my fucking God," before he buried his face in the crook of Michael's neck, sucking a hickey there in order to stem the flow of obscenities leaving his throat. He'd always been vocal in bed, but the younger man seemed to bring the words out in force. Perhaps it was just because he was so damn good.

Michael tilted his head to give the man more room as he continued working his hips down, speeding his rhythm up slowly. He let his head fall back completely, closing his eyes and giving Geoff access to the entire expanse of his chest. He wrapped a hand around himself, moving his other hand to rest on Geoff's stomach to help himself keep leverage. He stroked his hand slowly, mostly just to relieve the aching in his dick. "Ah, Geoff." He whined out loudly.

Geoff speckled kisses and hickeys across Michael's chest, careful to avoid his bandages and moaning every time the younger man sank onto his cock in a particularly pleasant way. He shifted his weight onto right hand, bringing the left one up to help Michael stroke himself. "Fuck- I don't think I can hang on much longer," he murmured, face twisting in concentration as he tried not to spill over the edge. "You- ah- you feel too damn good."

Michael was briefly reminded of one of the rules Jackson had set, and though he was positive Geoff wouldn't get mad at him if he came first, he still wanted to be good for Geoff. He made sure to not focus on Geoff's hand, instead paying more attention to the way their bodies felt together. He removed his hand from his cock, letting Geoff take over and moving to grip at his stomach instead. He circled his hips, just as he moved forward slightly to moan into Geoff's ear.

Geoff's breath hitched, focusing on the way Michael clenched around his cock as he moaned. He grabbed at the man's shoulder with his free hand, thrusting up once more before he came. He swore he saw sparks dancing in front of his eyes as orgasmic bliss overwhelmed him, and he stroked Michael more quickly, trying to make the man lose himself.

Michael let out panty breaths as Geoff stroked him quickly, hips bucking up to meet his touches as he came with a cry of the older man's name. He blinked away the blurring vision, letting himself collapse onto Geoff's chest, panting lightly as he nuzzled his face into his neck. He couldn't help the immediate response of "Thank you." that fell from his throat, it was habitual really, to thank someone for letting him feel good.

"No problem," Geoff laughed breathily, "You did most of the work… Holy shit." He wrapped his arms around Michael, gently sliding his hands down to the man's waist and lifting slightly, mindful of the bandages. He didn't really mind their position, but he figured Michael wouldn't want the tattooed man's soft cock buried in him while they napped.

Michael shimmied up slightly, yawn tearing from his throat as he moved his hands to tug into Geoff's hair. He felt tired, exhausted actually and he almost laughed when he remembered what Geoff had said about him crashing after they fucked. It was true, he knew that, but he blamed it on the fact that sex had always ended with naps; or mindless touching if he was high enough.

Geoff pulled out of the other man, pulling of the condom and tying the end before he tossed it blindly in the direction of the trash can. He leaned back against the pillows, pulling Michael to lay with him and stroking the man's hair idly. He buried his nose in the curls, breathing in the intoxicating scent of sex and cinnamon. "You always smell fucking amazing," he murmured, kissing the top of Michael's head.

Michael giggled lightly at that, shaking his head lightly. "What like sweat and sex? I'm sure I smell great." He muttered snarkily, sliding his hands to the back of Geoff's neck, fingers tiptoeing across the ends of his hair. He almost wanted Geoff to rub his back, just to give him a tiny reminder of something that no longer was, but he bit back asking it, choosing instead to let his eyes droop closed.

"Don't diss the smell of sex, dude. Smells fucking amazing," Geoff mumbled, nosing Michael's cheek in a way that was supposed to be teasing, but was in actuality the sleepy rendition of an awkward eskimo kiss. "And you smell like… like fucking cinnamon or something. You always smell like that. It's gotten to the point where I can't drink my favorite cinnamon flavored whiskey without getting a hard on." It was only half true, but he'd certainly stopped drinking it when they had company over.

"You're an idiot." Michael mused lightly, burying his face closer to the man's neck and shifting his hips slightly to get more comfortable from where he was still sprawled out across him. He really just wanted to nap, just to fall asleep and forget everything about the world. He wasn't sure why Geoff was so aware of his smell, he'd barely paid attention to people's eye colors. Though he knew Geoff smelled very strongly of alcohol, even when he was completely sober. It was strong and disorienting, but amazing never the less.

"Yeah, but I'm your idiot," Geoff murmured, stroking Michael's hair with his fingers, letting them slide down the man's neck and over his back before trailing back up again. He was content to let Michael curl into him and sleep; maybe his warmth would drive the nightmares away.

Michael's fingers stopped curling around the man's hair when the sleep finally managed to take him, eyes drowsing closed and his hands falling from the man's hair to rest loosely on the pillow behind Geoff. He fell completely over to the darkness of sleep, wondering vaguely what sort of horrors he could experience in the short time it took to nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, hope you all enjoyed. Leave a comment and let us know what you thought! 
> 
> See you Wednesday!


	35. Chapter 35

Geoff smiled softly down at Michael, finding his pants with his toes and nudging them up enough that he could grab them and remove the phone from his jeans pocket. He wasn't tired; rather, he was feeling invigorated and ready to cook up a new plan, one that would get them a hell of a lot more money than the drug deals with famous actors he'd been cooking up lately. Joel Heyman was their best customer, but Geoff had bigger fish to fry. He sent out a text to the main crew members, minus Michael, instructing them to meet at his apartment for bevs and debriefing at 8.

Michael woke up an hour and a half later, thankful that his mind hadn't tortured him with nightmares and instead let him fall into a dreamless state. His mind was a bit foggy, eyes blinking awake a little shakily.

"Good evening," Geoff murmured, setting down his phone when he saw Michael's eyes blink open. He cupped the man's chin, tilting it upwards and giving him a sweet peck on the lips. "How'd you sleep?" He strongly resisted the urge to call Michael 'baby' no matter how nice the pet name sounded in his head.

Michael shrugged his shoulders matter of factly, moving to sit up; though still resting on top of Geoff. He stretched his arms up, back cracking audibly and making him smile. "Fine. No nightmares." He murmured, today seemed to be a good day. Which, back in the orphanage when he'd had therapy nearly five days a week, would be titled a 'high'. Where as yesterday where he'd been coping with negative thoughts and issues horrifically, it'd been a 'low' day.

Geoff sat up, wrapping his arms around Michael and pulling the other man in for a kiss, "Mm… I'm glad." He grinned at Michael, "Oh, and just so you know, the crew's coming over soon to discuss a heist. But we still have 45 minutes before they get here…" The grin turned wicked, and he leaned in to nip at Michael's neck lightly. He felt addicted to the feeling of the man's skin.

Michael tilted his head back to allow him to bite at his neck, yawn falling from his throat. "C-can we take a shower or bath or something?" He knew it would take a while because of his bandages having to come off but he hadn't bathed in a while and he was craving Geoff's elegant bathroom like he craved Ryan's sheets.

"Sure," Geoff pulled back, kissing the tip of his nose. "I think I have some big bandages in the first-aid kit- I'll go get them." He wiggled out from under the other man to search for the case; he'd thought it seen it in the spare bathroom last. "Just warm up the water or whatever, and I'll help you take them off when I get back."

Michael nodded, sliding off the bed and making his way over to the bathroom. He took in the nicely arranged room, refusing to meet his own eyes in the mirror as he leant over the bathtub and set the temperature to hot. He knew the heat would sting his wounds, but he knew he wouldn't mind it nearly as much as he should. He closed the drain once he was sure it was hot enough and let the water rise.

Geoff retrieved the bandages from the kit, along with a tube of disinfectant cream, grabbing a few clean towels from the linen closet before heading back to his room. The tattooed man walked into the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub and motioning for Michael to sit next to him.

Michael obliged, sitting down next to Geoff and fiddling with his hands while he waited for Geoff to remove them. He wasn't sure how he'd react, part of him expected the anger, but he wasn't sure anymore. Geoff was being careful with him, and he wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or relieved.

Geoff peeled off the adhesive strips on the man's chest first; he'd mostly seen those when Ray had been changing Michael's bandages, and he wasn't shocked or appalled by the long, delicate cuts. They were scabbed over and looked like they’d hurt like hell, but they weren’t horrifying. When he got to the bandaging on the younger man’s hips, however, he hesitated- unsure of what he’d find underneath the material. He removed them carefully, not daring to look until the bandage was peeled off fully, and took in a sharp breath.

Michael winced at the pulling of the bandages, noticing that Geoff didn't just yank them off like Ryan had. Michael decided to stare at the water of the bathtub instead, dipping a finger in and swirling it around just to distract himself from focusing too much on anything in particular.

Geoff wasn't sure if he was impressed or digested by the intricate pattern carved into Michael's flesh, just shallow enough to keep from scarring. They were almost beautiful- in a way that made his stomach turn, of course- but he couldn't help tracing a finger over the nearly perfect triangle. /Shit/, Ryan was better with a knife that he'd thought. He took off the bandages on the other side, leaning over Michael and furrowing his brow at the fading bruises under the wounds- long, slender fingers- too small to be Ryan. Suddenly he understood why the auburn-haired man had wanted the psychopath to cut into him.

Michael shivered lightly at the contact, eyes darting to the bathroom door Geoff had left open and flinching when he swore he saw Jackson, it was only for a second, a simple moment which was better than his last few flashbacks. He moved a hand to grip at Geoff's shoulder, but made no other sign of discomfort and the grip on Geoff's shoulder could've been just as easily caused by pain.

"Sorry," Geoff murmured, pressing an apologetic kiss to the man's lips. He stood up, tugging lightly at Michael's arms so that he would do the same; a guilty, curious part of him wanted to get a better look at the wounds Ryan had carved into the man.

Michael kissed back softly, standing up easily and pulling away before flicking his eyes back to the bathroom door. There wasn't anything there, or rather, anyone, but he still had an awful feeling of being watched. He flicked his eyes back to Geoff's, rubbing a hand across his face before moving to the bathtub.

Geoff's breath hitched when he noticed the extent of the cuts; they curved under Michael's ass just slightly, as if they were caresses. He shook off the odd feeling- an odd mix of desire, curiosity, and repulsion. The man's flesh was like artwork.

Michael glanced back at him, noting the man's staring and letting out a sigh. "I know, you don't like them." Michael mumbled, already hearing the man's words before he even said them. He slid down into the hot bath water, wincing at the sting of his wounds, the ones on his hips hurt the worst. But it felt nice to soak them.

"I- No. It's… They're actually kind of pretty," Geoff muttered, stepping into the bath and hissing; the water was scalding, but he lowered himself in anyways. "It's your body… If you want Ryan to cut you up, y'know… You're allowed." He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.

Michael leant back against the bathtub, arching an eyebrow up at the man. He didn't press for more information, however, choosing instead to scrub the dried cum from his stomach. He moved his foot to rest on Geoff's thigh, completely content to just relax in the warmth of the water.

Geoff chewed his lip, sliding down further into the water, as if he could hide his embossment under the liquid. "Look… I was an asshole, alright? I /am/ a jealous, selfish asshole who's been in love with you for fucking years, and I didn't like the idea of you getting fucking… attached to someone else. Especially because it was Ryan, and he fuckin'… Look, the last person that I know he dated, ended up dead and hanging in a warehouse. I thought he was going to hurt you- that he'd convince you to let him fuck you and carve you up or some shit. But it's consensual… and he fucking cares about you, so yeah. You guys have my kinky blessing." There was an undertone to the words, a /But please don't fucking leave me/ undertone that he hoped wasn't as desperate as it felt.

Michael smiled at that, it meant a lot coming from Geoff. Especially when he was still holding the feeling that fucking the both of them wasn't morally right. But to know that they were both accepting of it, or at least until he knew a direct answer, was a relieving feeling to say the least. "I-thank you." He moved forward to press his lips gently to Geoff's.

"Yeah, well. Now you have to tell me how big his dick is in return," Geoff joked, wrapping his arms around the other man and touching their foreheads together. He could feel Michael's legs on his in the water, slippery and wet and decidedly smoother now that the hair covering them was soaked enough to lay flat.

Michael let out a laugh at that, moving his wet hands to card through the man's hair, as he pressed a light kiss to the man's neck. "Did you see if Ryan ever got my knife back?" Michael questioned, yesterday he'd been a little too hurt to remember asking about it, but now he was thinking mostly about them actually killing him. He was sort of hoping if he thought enough about him dying, it'd cure the flashbacks.

"Kdin, one of the new guys, had it. Jackson pulled it on him- almost took out his eye," Geoff tilted his head to the side, giving Michael more room. "I don't have his number, so I texted Jack and told her to get it back." That woman was strangely savvy when it came to dealing with gangsters and criminals.

"Okay." Michael murmured easily, flicking his tongue out to lick at the man's skin. He pressed them even closer together, letting his legs lay on either side of the man's hips. "How long do we have now?"

"Long enough," Geoff murmured, a wicked grin spreading over his lips. He twisted one hand into Michael's damp hair, shifting his legs so that they were lying comfortably under Michael's in a similar position.

Michael leant his head back into the touch, prompting Geoff to tug and pull as much as he wanted before bringing their lips together heatedly, tongue sliding across Geoff's bottom lip as he leaned into him, pressing their chests together.

Geoff opened his mouth to Michael, letting the younger man slide his tongue in. He shifted, indulging in the feel on Michael's wet skin on his. He wanted to dirty talk the man into oblivion and then jerk them both off, but he wasn't sure it turned Michael on as much as it did him. Plus, he'd have to stop kissing the man.

Michael groaned when he shifted, pulling away to nip lightly at the man's neck, he pressed kisses up to the underside of the man's ear, moving down along his jawline and moving his hips slightly.

Geoff let out a soft, pleasured sound, curling his hand even more tightly into Michael's hair, tugging the man down to mouth at the crook of his neck. His other hand moved under the water, and he wrapped his fingers around the other man's dick. "When I said we had enough time…" he murmured, "I meant that the only one that might catch us fucking in the bathtub is Gavin, but still."

"Like I fucking care." Michael murmured out, hips moving to meet the man's hand as he mouthed at his neck. He ran his fingers along Geoff's chest, rubbing and massaging the soft wet skin, pinching occasionally.

Geoff grinned, "What, are you into exhibitionism now?" He thumbed the head of Michael's cock, teasing it gently before returning to stroking the man's shaft. Honestly, the tattooed man found it fucking hot that Michael- in theory- didn't give a fuck if someone walked in on them.

Michael was about to reply, but his words came out more like a moan than an answer. He bucked his hips up, encouraging Geoff's hand before moving his own hand down to run his fingers along Geoff's cock. "Fuck." He murmured, leaning his head to rest on Geoff's shoulder. A shiver ran through him, arousal spiking harshly through his body.

 

Geoff nibbled at the man's earlobe, his own hips canting up into the light touch. "No, seriously," he murmured, voice low in Michael's ear, "Are you into exhibitionism? Shit- What are you into? Because I'll give it to you… Make it so fucking good…" He wanted to be able to fulfill the man's deepest desires, or at least a few of them.

Michael's hips bucked up at Geoff's questioning, face flushing harshly from the idea of having someone watch them, it wasn't really something he'd thought about before, and Geoff was just encouraging his mind to wander to thoughts of /who/ would watch, or when, and in what context and if /Geoff/ would watch. What was he into? Michael barely knew himself well enough to know. "F-fuck, I don't know, haven't really ever tried much... Haven't thought about much-ah, God..." Michael wrapped his hand around Geoff's cock, stroking languidly.

"Mm… We'll experiment," Geoff promised, hips working up into Michael's hand as his own pumped up and down. He slid forward slightly, getting them close enough that he could slide their cocks together, wrapping his hand around both of them and picking up the pace.

Michael's hips stuttered when Geoff wrapped his hands around them both, moving his hand and letting Geoff take over, he moved both his arms to wrap around Geoff's back, fingernails scratching lightly. "H-h-holy fuck." He moaned out, back arching as Geoff moved his hand.

"You gonna cum?" Geoff murmured, nipping at the skin of Michael's neck. He himself was feeling heat pooling low in his gut, but he wanted the other man to tip over the edge before he did. /Fuck/, he loved the sound of Michael's moans.

"Can I?" Michael asked automatically, inwardly cursing at himself. This was Geoff, you don't have rules. Still he paused, looking at Geoff and waiting for permission.

"Please do." Geoff kept his voice coy, though he felt a little bit like he was coming undone at the edges. He sucked another hickey into Michael's neck, just under his jaw where it would be visible unless the younger man picked up a penchant for wearing turtle necks in the middle of June.

Michael groaned, breathy pants leaving his mouth as he jutted his hips forward desperately, riding out his orgasm as he came. He gripped tightly at the man's hair, relishing in the feeling of his mouth on his neck.

Geoff followed him; Michael's breathy moan and that same, lovely face he made when he came were more than enough to push him over the edge. He panted slightly, looking down at the cum-filled water and making a face. "Oh… Fucking gross."

Michael let out a slight laugh, shaking his head. "Fuckin' hell, we were supposed to be getting /clean/ asshole." He muttered lovingly, tapping a finger to the man's cheek.

 

Geoff pulled the plug and stood, making a thoroughly icked-out expression. "That's- That's just fucking disgusting… I probably should have thought that through more." He stepped out, not bothering to grab a towel as he walked to the shower and turned it on, a trail of water dripping onto the floor behind him.

Michael laughed again, standing up and stretching, before flicking his eyes to the door and grimacing. He stared at the smirking man for a few seconds, breath hitching as he tried to remind himself he wasn't real. He stepped out of the tub, desperate to not look weird in front of Geoff.

Geoff stepped into the shower, shivering slightly before the water grew warm and he relaxed, beckoning Michael over with a twitch of his index finger. "C'mere. You're going to get jizz-water all over the floor."

Michael flicked his attention over to Geoff, making sure his steps weren't hesitant as he kept his peripheral on the figure by the door. He still hadn't moved, just stared at him with a disapproving look that.made Michael want to fall to his knees and apologize until his voice was raw. He slid into the shower with him, sliding under the water to wash off the gross water.

Geoff washed them off quickly, but affectionately. He rubbed shampoo into Michael's hair, kissing the younger man on the forehead and making a disgruntled noise when he got soap in his mouth. The rest of the lather went into his own hair, and a bar of soap was rubbed in between his hands, before he gave it to Michael. He cleaned under his armpits and around his junk, wrapping his arms around the other man when he finished, enjoying the warm patter of water against his back for as long as he could, not wanting for his "guests" to arrive at all.

Michael scrubbed the soap similarly across his body, gentle of his own wounds before setting the soap back on the shelf. He let Geoff wrap his arms around him, but glanced to where the Jackson figure had moved to lean up against the counter. Michael instinctively took a step back towards the wall of the shower, he was still trying not to look too weird but he figured he'd probably lost that fight already. He didn’t understand how the man was always there somewhere, always lingering.

Geoff nudged his nose against Michael's cheek, pressing their foreheads together with a concerned expression lacing his features. "You alright?" he murmured, once again repressing the urge to spatter the younger man with a thousand pet names he probably wouldn't appreciate.

Michael brought his eyes to Geoff's, he was more than annoyed at his mind. They usually went away when someone was there, they didn't usually stay. "I'm okay." Michael nodded, pressing their lips together softly. He wasn't really, of course, he felt like he wanted to cry, but he shook off the feeling. They had company coming over, this wasn't a good time for breakdowns.

 

"Okay," Geoff breathed against his lips, though whether it was a repetition of Michael's statement, or an agreement, he wasn't sure. "We should go- Gav'll be here in a minute, if he isn't already." He didn't pull away, though.

Michael nodded, pulling away but making sure Geoff went first, he wanted to make sure Geoff couldn't see him. He needed to make sure it was just his mind being horrible to him.

Geoff moved out of the shower, grabbing the towels he'd laid out on the counter, handing one to Michael as he moved to dry himself. He felt relaxed and contented, ready for a night of bevs and video games and, of course, heist planning.

Michael furrowed his brows as Jackson's figure finally disappeared, taking the towel to his hair and drying himself off. He tied it across his waist before walking back into Geoff's room and searching for one of his outfits in Geoff's wardrobe.

Geoff slipped around the younger man to grab a severely wrinkled dress shirt and jeans, slipping them on easily, though he didn't bother to do up the buttons. He checked his phone, noting that he'd gotten confirmations from everyone but Ryan, whose message stated simply "I'll sit this one out. Tell Ray to give me the details later." 

"Your other boyfriend won't be joining us, apparently," Geoff muttered, wrapping his arms around Michael. He wasn't sure if he was glad, or disappointed.

Michael pulled on his clothes before Geoff spoke, a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt.Michael felt the sharp hit of abandonment, /they don't love you/ Michael jumped at the voice that definitely didn't belong to Geoff. /Just a whore, baby boy, only a good fuck to them. They pretend because you'll leave if they don't/. Michael flinched at the words in his mind. "Okay." He shrugged, outwardly his body and face shown calmness.

"Well, I get to have you all to myself, then," Geoff murmured, pressing a kiss to Michael's cheek and buttoning his shirt up. "Okay, all to myself romantically, given that everyone else is coming." He grinned at the younger man, wiggling his eyebrows humorously.

Michael's face was still stony until he realized he was supposed to laugh. He managed a light giggle, eyes glancing back behind Geoff and at the figure standing there. He swallowed, trying to keep his eyes from shining fear. If he caved, he knew he'd be a sobbing mess and he really didn't want Geoff to have to deal with that.

Geoff bit back another "Is everything okay?" knowing full well that Michael wouldn't answer. Instead, he cast the man one last concerned glance before slipping out of his room and into the living room. Gavin was nowhere to be seen, but he had to be there given the fact that Jack was sitting on his couch, scrolling through her phone, and the door had most definitely been locked before.

Michael eyed the figure once Geoff left, staring back at the door the man just left out of. He felt like it was hard to even so much as make his way out of the door, pausing to zip up his jeans before entering the living room and heading towards the kitchen. He would be fine because he had to be right now. He couldn't break down and sob on men's laps forever.

Jack was looking- well, Geoff really didn't know how to put it. Her expression was a bit more frustrated than the usual, cynical one she wore for every business matter. Instead of leggings and a blouse, she had on a full, ruffled dress with a mock corset laid over it and an elegant scarf tied around her neck. On the table was a top hat and a pair of nearly steampunk glasses, and the tattooed man was rather unsure if their use was for style, or in place of the contacts the woman usually wore. "Fuck… Jack, you look-"

"Don't say a fucking word," she retorted, shooting him a glare. "I've already had one asshole stop me on the sidewalk and inform me that 'Lolita isn't in anymore.'"

"I was going to say stylish," Geoff raised his hands up in surrender, sitting down on the couch next to her. She grimaced, but still reached into her purse and pulled out the knife that Michael used to keep under his pillow as he slept, handing it over to the tattooed man.

Michael opened the fridge and pulled out a red bull, popping the tab and swallowing some of it down. He glanced up when Gavin walked back in, moving to grab another red bull can out of the fridge and setting it on the counter for him. A truce of sorts. "Thanks boi." Gavin smiled, opening the tab of his and taking a swig.

"So…" Geoff raised an eyebrow. He hadn't talked to the woman outside of business for a few weeks now.

"Don't 'So' me, asshole," Jack replied, stabbing her finger vindictively at his chest, "You think you can just call me up- No, not even you. /Gavin/- and tell me to put out a hit on some motherfucker I haven't heard the name of before? And then I don't hear from you for days. I don't know if you're alive, or crazy, or what- But the next thing I know, one of our newest crew members is in the hospital, Ryan /Wolfe/ is your new best friend, and you want me to FETCH A GOD DAMN KNIFE FOR YOU?" Her face was twisted in rage, and Geoff realized just how fucking stupid he'd been.

Michael and Gavin exchanged a very classic 'Oh shit' expression, making sure to stay as far out of the argument as possible, distracting themselves by drinking the rest of the red bull.

Geoff opened and closed his mouth a few times, a dumbfounded expression stuck on his face. Finally he managed a soft, "It was- Michael's ex-boyfriend?" His voice cracked at the end of the word.

Jack's face darkened like a thundercloud. "Ooh, that's rich. What, does this mean I get to take out one of Caiti's ex's whenever I get jealous? Fun- Let's all just fucking do that! That's why we're in a gang, right?!" Geoff leaned back, hurt darting across his features, but before he could speak, Jack was back at him. "You don't get to say /shit/ about relationships, Ramsey. You wanna fuck around? Fuck around. But the minute you start developing a fucking heart, you aren't allowed to go murdering whatever bastard pissed you off. Fuck- even /Michael/ knows you don't just go fucking killing people because you want to!"

Michael flinched at his name being brought into this, glancing over though he had to admit he understood her anger, it was a shitty situation and she'd gotten no explanation whatsoever. He stuck for remaining silent, gnawing on his bottom lip and choosing to stare down at the counter.

"What, you think I was just fucking jealous, Jack?" Geoff hissed, leaning in closer. He didn't want Michael to hear all this; it would only remind him. "He- He… Motherfucker… He was a fucking pedophile and he was 21 years older than Michael and fucked him when he was /seventeen/! Do you really think that I just- That I'm jealous of the bastard that shot him up with drugs and /raped/ him and made him call him Daddy?!” Fuck. He was shouting. So much for keeping quiet.

Michael paled at the words, swallowing harshly as he kept a harsh grip on the countertop. Gavin’s eyes had widened at Geoff's words, he hadn't known all that, it was, well he wasn't sure what exactly it was except horrible. 

Michael wanted to die when he felt Gavin's gaze on him, he didn't even need to look up to see the pity in his eyes. He felt like his world was reeling all over again, and that he needed to leave very quickly, but everything was blanking and he could barely feel his legs at all.

All of the aggression seemed to drain out of Jack in a second, leaning her looking blank and utterly horrified. Geoff clamped his mouth closed, casting Michael a grim, but apologetic look. He stepped out from behind the couch, picking up the man's knife from where he'd set it on the coffee table. He placed it on the counter as he walked by, standing in front of Michael and opening his arms- whether for the man to cling to him or hit him, he didn't know. "Fuck… I'm sorry." The words were a whisper.

Michael didn't react to Geoff at all, just blinking blankly back at him. It was almost void of all emotions and he was thankful that his mind was actually helping him this time. He slipped to the ground easily, leaning back against the oven and focusing on the cabinets across from him. Gavin glanced over worriedly, eyes jumping from Geoff to Michael.

Geoff chewed his lip taking a few steps back, and then another few forward- and awkward mix between the cha-cha slide and pacing. Except he really didn't feel like dancing at all. Mostly, he just wanted to drink until he passed out. 

Then Jack was pushing her way past him, and he wobbled to a halt, watching as she kneeled down in from of Michael, her full skirt billowing out around her. A small part of Geoff's brain noticed that she was wearing a petticoat. The woman slid her scarf from around her neck, gently placing it around Michael's in a mothering gesture. She stroked his shoulder gently- a barely there touch that wasn't too invading, but made him aware of her presence. She no longer gave a fuck that her hickeys were in full view.

Michael blinked at her, eyes still mostly void but he didn't shove her away, he wasn't angry or upset, he just felt like he'd grown so used to having life be this way that things never really had much shock value anymore. 

Gavin leaned across the counter, too afraid and unsure to actually move towards them. "What's wrong with him?"

"Breakdown," Geoff murmured softly. He didn't really understand it himself, "I- it's a PTSD thing. I think."

"Breathe," Jack instructed him calmly, as if she were his teacher rather than an odd breed of friend. "Breathe in deeply, and out. You're alright- he's not here. He can't hurt you. No one is going to hurt you, okay?"

Gavin nodded as if he understood what Geoff was talking about. 

Michael shook his head frantically, hands moving to clutch desperately at the tiled kitchen floor. He wasn't necessarily having a hard time breathing as much as having a hard time coping. He flinched at the sound of knocking on the apartment door, chewing rougher on his bottom lip and splitting it open.

"Michael- I need you to do this for me," Jack said calmly, "I need you to breath. I know, it's stupid. But just focus on that, focus on breathing. There's not anything else that matters right now. In… and out." She took a few deep breaths as an example, keeping her face neutral. You never knew when a few group therapy techniques were going to be useful, but apparently this was one of those times.

Michael repeated her actions, letting his mind focus on the repetitive feeling of air entering and leaving his body. He closed his eyes and leant his head back, continuing the stupid exercises that were actually helping. He was vaguely aware of the door opening, but tried not to pay too much attention to it. 

Ray took in the scene quietly, shutting the door behind him and moving to stand next to Gavin, murmuring a low "What happened?" Nodding when Gavin explained just as quietly.

 

Geoff bit his lip guiltily, watching the scene before him unfold and just how much /better/ the woman was at dealing with this than he was.

"Okay," Jack murmured, "Keep breathing, but listen to me. I apologize for my outburst. I had no idea of the seriousness of the situation. This is not your fault; it's mine. And Geoff's," she tacked on as an afterthought. The man would apologize profusely later, but that wouldn't really help.

Michael continued his breathing like she asked, but listening to her words, and understanding them. He moved a hand to clutch at his chest, fighting back the sobs threatening to wreck through him.

"Good… You're doing good," Jack reassured him, "You can cry. It's alright, just let it out- I know, cheesy. It helps, though. But I need you to tell me something, okay? Are you having a flashback or hallucination? You can just nod or shake your head." She smoothed her skirt absently, not taking her eyes off the man.

Michael shook his head no, tears falling from his eyes though he was still.trying to bite back the sobs. He returned to his breathing, making sure they were steady as his body started to slowly calm down.

"Okay. That's good… That's great. Just keep breathing, keep focusing on that. That's what matters… You're not alone, here. Remember then- you've got me, and Geoff, and Gav, and Ray. We're going to stick with you through this, alright?"

Michael nodded, moving a hand up to rub at his eyes. He felt oddly loved and comforted, it was almost too much. He waited a few moments, before opening his eyes fully. "Sorry.." He murmured habitually.

"Don't be. It's not your fault- /none/ of it," Jack murmured intently. She leaned forward, taking her scarf back from around Michael's neck, "I think I probably need this more than you, though." The woman gave him a soft grin, wrapping the fabric back around her bruised neck.

Michael gave a small smile in return, his body still felt slightly shook up but his mind felt calmer and less blank. He wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing, or if any of what Jack said was true or not. He was still refusing to make eye contact with any of the others, it felt too vulnerable. 

Ray was pretty impressed with the woman's actions, and he wondered briefly if she had been a therapist or taken classes or something.

Jack ran a hand through her hair, absently brushing her bangs out of her face. For the first time since she'd sat down, she took her eyes off Michael, turning her cool gaze on Geoff. "Get him some water."

The man nodded, fetching a glass and filling it from the tap. He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should hand Jack the water or give it to Michael himself, but the woman tugged on his arm and he knelt beside her, offering the water to the younger man with slightly shaky hands.

Michael sniffled slightly, thankful that his tears were finally ceasing. He took the glass from Geoff before bringing it to his lips and taking a few gulps. He furrowed his brows at Geoff's shakiness, a little confused as to why he was reacting so oddly. He wasn't sure if he was mad at Geoff or not, the man had only been stating facts and Michael wouldn't argue with any of them, though still he didn't really appreciate the telling of his worst moments.

Geoff chewed his lip, deciding it was best if he just stood up and backed away. Jack's eyes followed him, but she said nothing, getting to her feet and brushing off her dress before holding out her hands for Michael to use as leverage.

Michael grabbed her hands, standing up on his feet a little shakily and setting the glass down on the countertop. It was awkward, mostly, the way everyone was staring at him and he let out a cough just to lessen his uncomfortability. He slid a hand across his face, moving his other arm to rest across his chest.

Jack's eyes slid around the room, glaring at anyone who was staring at Michael too intently- which was pretty much everyone. She moved to grab a case of beer from the fridge, silently handing one to the younger man and taking one herself. Geoff stepped forwards to take the rest from her, setting the bottles on the countertop. He twisted the cap off his own beer, chugging the first quarter of it in one go.

Ray and Gavin moved to look down at their phones when she glared, Ray sipping on the bottle of water he's brought. Michael murmured a quiet 'thanks' and took the bottle, opening his beer and tilting it back down his throat. The alcohol wasn't good, but it was helping.

Jack pursed her lips, clearly annoyed with the awkward silence, "You people don't know a goddamn thing about trauma care, do you? Just- go fucking sit on the couch." She rolled her eyes, walking back to the living room and reclaiming her seat on the piece of furniture in question.

Michael watched Ray and Gavin shuffle over towards the couch, Gavin was content to take a seat near Jack, but Ray chose to sit on the floor in front of the TV. Michael let himself lean forward on the counter with his elbows, hands rubbing into his hair as he let out a breath. He just felt tired now, and like he wanted nothing more than to just turn on MLP and sit on Geoff's lap and just not deal with anyone .

Geoff chewed his lip, not moving for a moment. Finally, he scooted around Michael, letting his hand trail over the man's shoulder and giving the top of his head a light kiss, before going to collapse in the comfy armchair by the TV. Fuck… He didn't know what to do, at this point- whether to ignore the incident or start asking questions or explain things to the others.

Michael watched him walk away before turning his attention back to his beer, once again enjoying the soothing effects it had. Ray and Gavin were still choosing to play on their phones, the silence more than deafening. Gavin spoke up first, eyes looking around at the three of them. "So..."

"He's dead, right?" Jack asked quietly, but there was a venomous bite to her words. Geoff nodded shortly, taking another sip from his beer like it would wash all his troubles away.

"Really dead." Ray muttered, casting his eyes up to Jack's. "Where'd you learn to do that?" 

Michael glanced over on the counter, smiling when he saw his knife. He reached out for it, already flicking the blade open and observing the metal.

Jack shrugged, sipping her beer, "About 1 in 4 women experience sexual assault in their lifetime, Ray." She said the statistic flatly, like it was something unimportant. "You deal with it- you get over the trauma; you go to group therapy; you learn how to help other people." She kicked off her shoes and propped her feet up on the coffee table nonchalantly.

Ray nodded carefully, really wishing he hadn't asked anything at all. He ran a hand across his face, sparing a glance to Michael who was casually flipping the knife in the air and catching the handle. 

Gavin glanced over at Geoff, "So, he was the one I talked to when I called?" He really felt like he should've known, should've acted, should've told Geoff right away.

Geoff sighed- an exhausted sound. "Yeah… Yeah, probably," he muttered, taking another drink from his bottle and peeling at the label with unsure fingers.

Gavin made a face somewhere between regret and guilt, shaking his head in a almost sad manner. Ray glanced up when he heard the sound of a knife clattering, noting that Michael had stepped back to avoid getting cut from the blade. 

He turned towards them, "I missed." he murmured, picking the blade up from the floor.

"For fuck's sake," Geoff chuckled, his stony face breaking into a grin. "If you're going to play with knives, at least cut me a lime or something." He shook his beer in Michael's direction, raising it in a "Cheers" gesture before pouring more alcohol into his system.

Michael let out a laugh, flipping the knife closed and setting it in the pocket of his jeans before moving his way towards the living room. He moved to sit next to Geoff on the floor, bumping shoulders with Ray who scooted a bit further to give him more room.

 

Geoff reached down, ruffling Michael’s hair affectionately. "So- since we're all here. I vote we order pizza and get bevved." He wiggled his eyebrows at Jack, who only rolled her eyes and toasted him with her own beer, before adding, "Well, except for Ray, since he's against having any fun at all." He seriously had no idea how the younger man could go through life without drinking, especially since he'd never even seen Ray go home with anyone. Sex and alcohol were Geoff's favorite vices, but at least the man got proxy drunk even if he refused every time a beer was shoved in his face.

Gavin was already up and at the counter, grabbing a beer from the pack before popping the top and making his way back over. He definitely wasn't going to turn down the option to get bevved. 

Ray let out a chuckle, shrugging his shoulders matter of factly. "Water is better." as Michael leant his head back to rest on Geoff's thigh, he knew he probably definitely didn't want to get drunk tonight; it always made the hallucinations worse. That's why he was one for x, as long as your dosage wasn't too much you were fine.

Geoff shook his head in mock offense, "You don't know what you're missing, you heathen." He finished off his beer, leaning forwards to set his bottle on the table. He gave Michael a quick kiss on the forehead, standing up and mixing a few gin and tonics, not bothering to add a lime slice- it was alcohol, he didn't really care if it looked pretty. He put them on the counter, grabbing a bottle of chocolate vodka and his favorite cinnamon whiskey- the one that was the color of Michael's hair and had a taste that made his toes curl pleasantly. He handed Jack one of the gin and tonics, which the woman took appreciatively, and set the vodka on the table for Gavin.

Michael moved to sit in Geoff's seat once he left, lounging out lengthwise across the armchair. Gavin took the drink greedily, patting Geoff on the arm in thanks before taking a sip and grimacing at the strong taste. Ray was noting that Ryan wasn't here and that Michael was, and that him and Geoff were definitely acting.. /close/. It made him wonder if Michael had finally picked, or if they were on good terms or what exactly had happened. He was good at keeping quiet though and he certainly didn't want to bother Michael about it. "So, when's this heist happening Geoff?" Gavin asked, glancing over.

"Three days," Geoff replied, glaring at Michael and taking his revenge by sitting down on top of the man. "Standard in-and-out bank robbery. Ray and Ryan are look out, while the rest of us get in and out, split up the money two ways and meet back at the docks. Nothing to it." It wasn't the most elaborate thing he'd ever planned, but cash was cash and they'd probably get a good 50,000 out of this.

Michael let out an 'oof' sound, attempting to shove the man off of him, poking his fingers sharply into the man's ribs. He'd managed to scrape one of the wounds on his hips slightly, and it stung nearly deliciously. He was pretty excited about the heist, even if it was almost always him and Gavin that were in charge of making sure whatever unlucky people happened to to be there that day, didn't get out. They never necessarily made it a hostage situation, but there were some things that just had to happen. "How much do you think we'll get?" Ray asked curiously, tilting his head at him.

Geoff shrugged, getting off of Michael and lifting the younger man up bridal style. He sat back down in the chair, settling Michael down in his lap with a wicked grin. "About 50,000, maybe more if we're lucky. So that's at least $8,000 per person."

"Top." Gavin commented, downing another good portion of the vodka. Ray smirked, that wasn't too bad at all, seemed worth it to him. Even if he was positioned outside warding off police. Michael felt the blush creep up, making sure to send Geoff a glare for his new position. He wasn't gonna lie, it was /nice/ but they were also in the company of others, even if they were his closest friends. He leant his head back against the arm of the couch and crossed his ankles over each other. Lounging back along Geoff's legs.

Geoff's grin only grew wider when he saw Michael's glaring, flushed face. He wiggled his eyebrows down at the man, taking a drink straight from the bottle of whiskey. /Fuck/, he'd never thought he'd love the taste of cinnamon as much as he did. The fact that the whiskey came straight out of local microbrewery just made it even better. He was a hipster at heart.

Michael resisted the urge to grind his ass down against him, just get to get him to stop grinning,   
choosing to take the less obvious route of shifting and arching his back in a mock stretch. He made an exaggerated groan of approval when his back cracked. Gavin started up a quiet conversation with Ray about a new video game, which led to a conversation about drugs, which was quickly leading into a conversation about Gavin never having done pot before.

Geoff shot the younger man a mock glare, sticking his tongue. "You're a dick," he muttered taking another sip of whiskey, grinning at Jack when she rolled her eyes at him. They were so damn obvious; it would have been sickening if she didn't understand it. The woman pulled out her phone, texting Caiti a quick picture of her bored face and the drink in her hand.

Michael only shrugged in response to the man's words, a few giggles falling from his throat. He took another sip of his beer, bringing to bottle to his lips and swallowing the liquid. He rolled over slightly to set it on the coffee table, falling back into position. "Gav, put in halo or something." Gavin nodded towards him, moving closer to the tv to set up Geoff's xbox. Ray switched positions so he wasn't sitting directly in front of the tv anymore, instead sitting sort of off to the side.

Jack grabbed a controller, downing the rest of her drink and crossing her legs in preparation for the match. Geoff only took another drink of whiskey, enjoying the taste of cinnamon and stretching. "You gonna play, Michael?" he asks, settling back further into the couch and ruffling the man's hair with his free hand.

Michael nodded briefly, reaching forward unto the coffee table to grab the remote, and moving to sit up in a better position so that he could actually see the tv. He pressed his back against Geoff's chest and scrolled through the game screen. "Do you want to play online, or two screen co-op?" Ray answered for them. "Onlines more entertaining." Michael started the game easily and waited for it to load in players.

Geoff tucked the bottle of whiskey next to him and wrapped his arms around Michael. He nipped at the man's neck, trying to distract him from the match on screen as Jack let out a curse as someone ran her through with an energy sword. As much as he loved Halo, Michael was vastly more interesting- especially when he was more than a bit tipsy.

Michael relaxed back into Geoff's embrace, but stayed focused on the match mostly. "What the fuck asshole!?" Michael yelled out once one of his own teammates killed him, he'd barely had so much as a chance to kill someone before they were already fucking shit up. He waited for the respawn, running forward and assassinating someone easily.

Geoff watched the game play out before him with mild interest, making a few, sarcastic comments whenever there was a team kill or when Jack or Gavin did something particularly moronic. He let his hands roam over Michael's chest idly, pressing kisses to his neck and behind his ear, either to distract him or placate him when he got a bit too worked up.

Michael set his controller to the side when the game finally ended, already halo'd out by the time they'd finished. He fell back against Geoff's chest with a huff, they'd lost and he was not happy about the results at all. Gavin laughed and got up to refill his drink, choosing to instead just take the bottle back with him to the living room. Ray started another match, watching idly as people joined.

Jack set down her controller, making a face, "Fuck, Ray. Are video games the only thing you're interested in?" 

Geoff, already more than a little drunk at this point, snorted. "Ray's sexuality is Cortana in Halo 4," he teased, sticking his tongue out at the younger man.

Ray laughed at them, shaking his head at Geoff's slurring voice. "Nah, Master Chief is much hotter." He joked easily, already handing the controller back to Gavin when he sat down. Michael let out a short yawn, head falling back to rest on Geoff's shoulder.

Geoff pressed a kiss to Michael's forehead, looking up when Jack's phone buzzed. Her eyebrows shot up as she read the message, flushing slightly and standing. "I'm- Gonna go," she jerked her thumb over her shoulder, roughly in the direction of the door and smiled guiltily. Geoff snorted, but waved her off with a jerk of his hand.

"Cya!" Gavin called, squealing when his on character died. Michael chuckled at the sounds, winding a hand around to rub at the back of Geoff's neck gently, fingertips trailing across the skin as he watched the game aimlessly.

"Fuckin' cock-tease," Geoff murmured, leaning forwards to nip at the shell of Michael's ear. "I'm drunk and everything tastes like cinnamon and you're just sitting here- on my lap- all fucking gorgeous and touchy." To be fair, so was he, but he'd also drank enough whiskey that it made sense for him to be losing control of his inhibitions.

Michael flushed, shivering lightly at the words. He was thankful for the fact that Gavin and Ray weren't paying them any attention. He wanted to tell Geoff to be quiet but couldn't bring himself to actually say the words, instead choosing to gnaw on his lip and pretend he hadn't heard him.

Geoff grinned at the way the back of Michael's neck went red, trailing his fingers up over the skin and into his hair. His other hand wrapped around to stroke the man's thigh, trying to distract him from the game of Halo going on onscreen. "On a scale of 1 to smashed, how drunk is everyone?" he asked softly, "Include Ray, because he gets drunk by proxy sometimes."

"Like a seven?" Michael shrugged, he really hadn't been focusing on how much they'd all been drinking. He turned his attention to Geoff with a raised eyebrow, tearing his attention from the game on screen. Every touch was sending shivers up his spine and he knew the added effects of alcohol weren't helping, even if he didn't have as much to drink as Geoff and Gavin.

Geoff was either a cuddly drunk or a horny drunk, and tonight he was definitely feeling the latter. He gave Michael a wicked grin, trailing his fingers further up his thigh, "Think they'd notice if I gave you hand job under this blanket?" He jerked his head back towards the soft quilt spread over the back of the chair.

Michael's breath hitched, both from the words and the increasing contact. "They'd definitely notice. Ray's not even drunk Geoff.." He murmured back quietly, though he wasn't making any real move to stop the man. The idea was thrilling, but he had to admit he was feeling a little nervous..he wasn't exactly great at being quiet.

Geoff's eyes flicked over to the other two men, and back to Michael, carefully snagging the blanket from the back of the chair with the hand that wasn't currently palming the redhead through his pants. He spread the soft cloth overtop of them, surprisingly comfortable despite the summer heat, "Do you want me to anyways?"

Michael sighed with a quiet 'fuck it.' and nodded, trying to still the fact that his hips were trying to move already. He kept his eyes trained on the match going on, gnawing on his lips and closing his eyes in a 'I can't believe I'm actually doing this' way.

Geoff almost giggled, but schooled his face into an innocent expression as he popped the button on Michael's pants and began tracing the outline of the man's half-hard cock with a finger. He hooked his chin over Michael's shoulder, looking for all intents and purposes as if he was watching the game of Halo as he cuddled his not-boyfriend.

Michael resisted the intense urge to moan and force his hips up into the man's hand, instead letting himself cuddle back closer against him. He tried to stop his face flushing too much, distracting himself with the match and pretending like it was the only thing that was going on right now.

Geoff's hand slipped under the waistband of Michael's boxers, wrapping his fingers around the man and pumping slowly. He didn't want to be caught by Ray or Gavin noticing the movement of his hand under the blankets. No, if they were caught it would be because he'd teased Michael until the man couldn't hold in his moans. The thought made his toes curl and his dick twitch.

Michael bit down harshly on his already split lip, moving his attention to picking at his nails. A bad habit really, but it was hard to act natural when Geoff was touching him right in front of his best friends. This took a lot more restraint than he originally expected and Geoff was only just barely touching him.

"Watch out for the asshole with the Spartan Laser," Geoff commented, teasing the slit of Michael's cock with his thumb. It would look more unnatural if he was staying silent, and the men were too focused on their game to look his way… for the moment.

"Thanks Geoff." Gavin commented, glaring at the respawn time on the screen as he was killed by the very guy Geoff warned him about. Michael dug his nails into the back of Geoff's neck. He let out a slight noise, biting it back quickly before either of the men could notice.

"Hey, I tried to warn you," Geoff shrugged, kissing Michael on the cheek as he began to speed his hand up. His motions were still almost torturously slow, but now the friction was intense enough that he couldn't resist nipping lightly at the man's neck, hoping to encourage a moan if nothing else.

Michael squinted his eyes closed, hips wiggling slightly to gain more friction as the older man worked. He let his head fall back against Geoff's shoulder and tried to stutter back a moan, though it came out shakily and definitely not as quiet as he'd wanted. Ray glanced over momentarily, rolling his eyes at Geoff kissing at Michael's neck. He couldn't see under the blanket, and only assumed they were making out. He flicked his gaze back to the game when his character died, he'd leave after they finished the match he decided.

Geoff's movements were quick and careful, even in his drunken state. He brushed his lips along the sensitive spot just under the man's ear, still trying to look innocent as he began to murmur a few choice words into Michael's ear. "God, you have no idea how fucking sexy you are like this. They're /right there/, and you just can't quite keep quiet- do you want them to know? Seriously, would you even care? Fuck, part of me just wants to get on my knees and blow you because you're just so fucking good." His breath was hot against the man's ear, and he couldn't keep the devilish grin of his face as he whispered.

Michael bucked his hips up at the words, resisting the urge to whine 'yes' over and over again. He shivered at Geoff's breath, gripping harsher at Geoff's hair and settling for a quiet. "Oh fuck." The adrenaline of possibly being caught mixed with Geoff's words were sending shocks of pleasure through him, he couldn't even bring himself to focus too much on acting like he wasn't getting a hand job. Ray was quick to reach forward and shut off the xbox, grabbing Gavin's arm and offering Geoff a quick wave. "And that's our cue to leave." He murmured, waiting for Gavin to get his shoes so that he could leave.

Geoff snickered, unable to look innocent any longer. He waved them goodbye with a wiggle of his fingers, outright guffawing the moment the door shut behind the two men. "Oh- Oh my God, the look on Ray's face!" he chuckled breathlessly.

"I fucking told you he'd know." Michael muttered, hips rising to try to bring Geoff back to focusing on the problem at hand. He moaned out loudly, thankful that they were gone now and he didn't have to focus on keeping quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a day late! Hope you enjoyed it anyway<3


	36. Chapter 36

Geoff shrugged, moving quicker now that they weren't in danger of being found out. His free hand snaked up the front of Michael's shirt, tweaking a nipple. He nibbled at the man's ear once more, biting the lobe and licking up the shell. "Mm, does it matter?"

Michael ground his hips down against Geoff's lap, making sure to torture him in revenge for the shivers of pleasure running through him. "No- I don't give a fuck." Michael muttered, back arching from his touches. He moved his hand to grab Geoff's thigh, fingertips gripping harshly.

Geoff let out a low groan, tossing off the blanket and shifting. "Fuck- get off. I don't want to get jizz on the armchair." Nevertheless, he sped up for a moment, before letting go of Michael's cock, arching up his hips so the man would climb off of him.

Michael obliged with a roll of his eyes, climbing off and standing up. He wrapped a hand around his own cock to lessen the aching that Geoff had caused. He gave himself a few strokes before waiting for further instruction. Geoff was in a kinky mood and he wasn't entirely sure what to expect.

Geoff got out of the armchair, pushing lightly on Michael's chest so that the man would sit down again, before grabbing a throw pillow from the couch. He tossed it on the floor, sinking to his knees and breathing hot air over the man's dick, resting his elbows on the edge of the chair and looking up at Michael with a wicked grin. "So- fucking around in public: turn on or off?"

Michael took in Geoff's figure in front of him, shivering at the man's warm breath. /fuck, everything Geoff did felt good/. "Turn on, obviously." Michael grunted out, winding a hand into the man's hair and tugging slightly.

"Score one for Geoff," the tattooed man grinned, leaning forwards to lick a stripe up Michael's cock. "Mm… Told you we were going to experiment," he murmured, stroking the man's dick and occasionally pressing a kiss to the head. He wanted his mouth free.

Michael growled at the cocky attitude, though it fizzled off into a loud moan when pressed a kiss to his cock. He felt sensitive and content. He was pretty curious about what Geoff meant by experimenting, and he was itching to find out exactly what all he meant.

With the sounds Michael was making, Geoff was all but hard in his jeans, but he resisted the urge to touch himself. Instead he guided the man's dick into his mouth and sucked harshly for a moment, before pulling back, his hand moving to squeeze Michael's balls lightly and then went back to stroking his shaft. "Fuck… Want to try something else?" he asked, unsure if the younger man had had enough sexual exploits for one night and just wanted to come in Geoff's mouth.

 

Michael whined at Geoff's mouth around him, moans falling from his throat as Geoff sucked. He raised an eyebrow at him when he pulled off, he was beyond curious of what Geoff had in mind. "What?" He asked, a bit hesitant before he just went and agreed.

Geoff shrugged, a few ideas flicking through his mind, none of which seemed particularly risqué or like something the younger man might enjoy. "I don't know," he replied, slowing his strokes to a leisurely pace, "I meant it when I said I was curious about your fantasies. I'm willing to try things if it means I get to corrupt you," he wiggled his eyebrows playfully.

Michael's mind first flashed to body shots, but he recalled his wounds and decided that wouldn't be the best idea. He racked his mind for something else, searching through random porn he'd seen and dreams he'd had. It was almost difficult to think of any one thing. "I like dirty talk, not gonna lie.. Uh, body shots should happen eventually... Fuck, I don't know. I want to try everything with you, anything with you... " Michael moaned out, his head falling back and exposing most of his collar bone.

The corners of Geoff's mouth twitched up into a grin. "Dirty talk and body shots; you're speaking my language. Remind Ryan not to cut you open for a few days. I'm not going to drink vodka off your stomach unless you're 100% healthy."

"Okay, fuck yeah okay." Michael murmured out huskily, hips rising slightly. He couldn't believe Geoff was talking to him about fucking kinks and what he wanted to do, when he'd never so much as told Jackson he liked something.

"Anything else? Fuck… I honestly don't care. I'll do pretty much anything," Geoff murmured. Honestly, he just liked touching Michael… Hearing the sounds he made. He didn't think there was anything that turned him on as much as making the other man happy. He was that far gone.

"Can we do food play at some point? God, or what about fucking ice, shit... Or what about toys, or orgasm denial?" Michael prompted, already caving into the pleasure flowing through him.

"Edible panties," Geoff supplied, "Though I have no idea if those taste any good." He tried to suppress the way he was grinning like an idiot; Michael was both absolutely adorable and sinfully attractive when he got worked up like this. He wrapped his lips around the man's cock once more, teasing the head with his tongue.

Michael shivered, letting out a slight laugh before Geoff wrapped his lips around his cock and it broke off into a frantic moan. He really wasn't going to last long, not with the way his mind was jumping through fantasies and fetishes. "Jesus, fuck Geoff, you're so good- your mouth is so hot, fuck."

Geoff pulled off, licking his lips and raising an eyebrow. "You wanna fuck my mouth?" He squirmed slightly; his kneeling position wasn't really doing his aching cock any favors and he finally gave in to the urge to palm himself through his jeans with the hand not jerking Michael off.

"Fuck, yes." He groaned out, twisting a hand in the man's hair gently and moving his knee slightly to leverage himself. He didn't dare force himself past the man's lips, instead waiting for him to open his mouth. He watched Geoff palm himself, moan falling from his mouth at the sight.

Geoff cracked his neck exaggeratedly, willing himself to relax as he hollowed his cheeks and took Michael into his mouth, easing down until the man's cock hit the back of his throat and he swallowed reflexively. He worked his tongue around the dick in his mouth as best he could, giving Michael a small, permissive nod.

Michael groaned, Geoff's mouth felt hot and wet, and really fucking warm. He waited patiently for Geoff to be ready, smiling down in appreciation when he nodded at him. He gripped gently at the man's head, rocking his hips carefully, moaning at the feeling. He tugged Geoff's head back, before moving his hips forward again. "Holy fuck, oh my fucking go- god dammit, Geoff.."

Geoff had to force himself not to grin, relaxing his mouth and letting Michael take complete control. He continued to palm himself, grinding against his hand to relieve some of the effects of the younger man's moans.

Michael let his hips thrust lightly, careful to not hurt the man's throat too much. He knew what that felt like and he definitely didn't want to screw up Geoff's voice. His hips trembled as he buried himself fully into Geoff's mouth, arching over slightly as his vision went white and he spilled over into Geoff's mouth. "Fuck, sorry... Shit, I'm really sorry." He wasn't sure if he was more apologetic for not giving Geoff a warning, or cumming first without permission.

Geoff gagged slightly at first, but otherwise managed to swallow the bitter substance easily, before he pulled of the man. He licked his lips, his tongue wiping away the last traces of jizz from the corners of his mouth. "Why are you apologizing for an orgasm? It's a compliment, and besides, that was the whole point," he murmured, still rocking his hips into his hand slowly.

Michael didn't answer, he could always tell him after if Geoff wanted him to. He slid his foot to the man's thigh, rubbing softly. "How can I help?" He murmured lowly, totally prepared to do whatever Geoff wanted.

"Mm, fuck…" Geoff muttered, eyes drifting half-closed, "However you want. Could grind against your ass 'til I came my pants like a teenager, for all I care." It was true; nine times out of ten, Michael coming was his primary goal in their sexual exploits.

Michael smirked, he wasn't going to make Geoff do that after all he'd just done for him. He moved off of the armchair, sitting on his knees in front of him and moving a hand forward to slide open the man's pants, he pressed his lips to Geoff's neck and sucked gently. He wound a hand tight around him, stroking a few times before pushing his chest and prompting him to scoot back a little ways.

Geoff complied easily, his knees slipping off the throw pillow and onto the carpet as he moved. It wasn't as cushy, but with Michael's hand around his cock, he really couldn't care less about that.

Michael crouched down across him to lick a stripe up the underside of his cock before flicking his tongue across the tip and sinking his mouth down on top of him.

Geoff's eyelids flutter and he let out a low, "Fuck…" He kept himself quiet, knowing that the more he held back now, the more obscene and verbal he'd be when Michael really got to work.

Michael hollowed his cheeks, hands moving to massage his thighs as he swallowed against Geoff before sucking. He knew he was well trained in using his mouth, supposing he had Jackson to thank for that, though it came in handy at times like these. He flicked his tongue against Geoff's cock before starting to suck harshly, reaching a hand up to stroke what wasn't currently in his mouth.

"Mff," Geoff dug his teeth into his lower lip, trying and failing to muffle the noises he was making, and twining one hand into Michael's hair. "Jesus Christ… Did I ever mention- how good you are at that?"

Michael hummed lightly as an answer, making sure it sent vibrations through him as he managed to suck him further down, sliding his tongue against him and swallowing again. He looked up at Geoff, making sure to make eye contact with the man.

"Mother/fucker/," Geoff moaned, "Fucking Christ- you have doe eyes that would make Bambi jealous, God damn." He resisted the urge to thrust wantonly into the wet heat of Michael's mouth. "Want you… Want you so fucking much; you're so- damn good.”

Michael smirked around him, letting out another hum against him as he moved a hand up to fondle his balls. He flicked his tongue against him before sucking roughy. He pulled off for a moment, forcing himself back down further.

"Fuck… Motherfucking shit, you're so good, Michael. Better than- better than anyone… I've been with in a long time. Jesus, it's like your mouth was fucking made for this, holy shit." There was nothing he could do except to submit to the warmth around his cock and let dirty words pour from his lips.

Michael listened intently, the praise was definitely nice and it only spurred him to work harder, periodically sucking and humming against him. He thought the last bit was sort of funny, because well, he was kind of made for it. Or well, trained more or less.

 

Geoff was barely even aware of the words spilling out of his mouth anymore, only knowing that they were curses, compliments, and obscenities in a wide variety. He tugged at Michael's hair in warning, "Fuck… Michael, holy shit I'm gonna come, fuck- fuck!"

Michael smirked up at him, not pulling off and instead swallowing against him, only grimacing slightly at the bitter taste of the man's cum. He pulled off after making sure he milked the man dry, sliding the back of his hand across his mouth and then his palm, making sure to lick his palm slowly for show. He smirked at Geoff easily, proud of himself for not gagging when he spilled over.

"Holy shit… You're fucking sexy as dicks, c'mere," the tattooed man collapsed against the carpet, motioning for Michael to come cuddle against him. He didn't bother to tuck himself away, too immersed in his post-orgasmic haze to care much.

Michael did willingly, crawling up on top of him and nuzzling his face into the crook of the man's neck. He ran a hand across the man's chest lightly. "Th-the reason I apologized was habit, sorry. Back with Jackson, I wasn't allowed to cum first unless I begged." He murmured, probably killing the mood after sex, but figuring it'd be better to say it now.

Geoff's face scrunched up unpleasantly at the mention of the man, and he pressed a kiss to the top of Michael's head. "Well, we'll just have to get you out of the habit. I'll just- suck your dick at random intervals until you stop apologizing." He waved his hand in a vague gesture, as if he was motioning to the solution to the problem, trying to beckon it closer.

Michael chuckled at the simple way Geoff decided to solve the problem, cuddling up closer to the man and feeling comfort in the way their bodies fit together. Geoff was good at cuddling, that was certain.

Geoff curled into Michael, wrapping his arms around the man. He half wanted to remove the light dress shirt he was wearing, but at the same time, he was too damn lazy. That's what happened when you got a blow job when you were more than a little bit drunk. He began to giggle, his tipsiness hitting him again as his brain skipped away from the moment at hand. "Fuck- Ray's face…"

Michael let out a soft groan of annoyance, shaking his head at the man's giggliness. He moved to get off of him, standing up and making sure he was in his boxers before grabbing his discarded jeans and offering a hand to the drunken man below him. Michael wanted to sleep, and not on the floor. "Let's go, Geoffers."

Geoff grabbed the hand, hoisting himself up and tucking himself back inside his boxers. He didn't bother letting go, intertwining his fingers with Michael's as they half-stumbled to the bedroom, breathy laughter still falling from the tattooed man's throat. "I thought he was going to have a stroke..."

Michael rolled his eyes, but let himself laugh at Geoff's laughter. He tossed his pants in a random direction, crashing on top of Geoff's bed and snuggling under the covers, pulling Geoff down next to him.

Geoff's fingers fumbled with the buttons of his dress shirt, but managed to undo them after a moment. He kicked off his pants and discarded the shirt, wiggling in next to Michael and burying his face in the man's hair. "You still smell like cinnamon…" he murmured softly, "If we're doing body shots, I wanna do one with that cinnamon whiskey."

"That's fine." Michael shrugged, he honestly didn't care what Geoff drank off of him. "You look good in those shirts.." Michael muttered lazily, yawn falling from his throat as he snuggled his head into the pillows.

"Good. I put a lot of time into looking this artfully disheveled," Geoff yawned, too tired to even laugh at his own joke. He slotted his body next to Michael's, spooning him as if their bodies had been made to slot together this way.

Michael rolled his eyes, but pressed himself back closer to the comfort that was Geoff. He closed his eyes, already letting sleep envelop him, his body too exhausted to even try to keep him awake.

Geoff drifted off into dreamless (Well, probably dreamless. He could never remember his dreams) sleep, wondering if they'd we awoken by a rude wake up call from Gavin, or perhaps one of Ray's 

Michael's dreams were thankfully uneventful, a few slight moments here and there but nothing as intense as it could've been. He woke up when the sun hit his face, the curtains doing a shit job at protecting his eyes. He yawned lightly, eyes taking in the room around him.

Geoff shifted, snuggling into Michael more closely when the man moved, but otherwise seemed unaffected by the man's awakening. The only time he'd woken up that morning had been when Michael's phone had buzzed, and he'd been able to fall back into the arms of sleep rather easily.

Michael tried to shift against Geoff's grasp, wanting to wash his face in the bathroom and piss, but it was futile and he let the man cuddle into him, figuring he'd just play some games on his phone. He grabbed it off of the end table.

The message notification popped up on screen, the first few, familiar digits of Ryan's number appearing on the top of the banner. When Michael swiped his finger over the screen and clicked on the messenger app icon, he found that the text read simply: [sent: 10:38 am. "Are you having fun at Geoff's?"]

 

Michael furrowed his brow, the man was even hard to understand over fucking text. His fingers danced over the keypad that popped up. Texting back "Everyone got bevved last night, missed you though."

Another text buzzed through a few moments later, as if Ryan had taken a minute to decide just how to phrase his reply. "Figured it would be best to let you and Geoff have some time to yourselves. I wanted to check up on you, though."

Michael smiled at the feeling of abandonment lessening as it was confirmed that he'd wanted to check up on him. "Well, Geoff let the cat out of the bag and kind of shouted a bunch of shit about my life to Jack and Gav, so that was fun."

Ryan, lounging on his couch at home, made a low, displeased noise, but avoided calling Geoff any of the obscenities that came to mind, for Michael's sake. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, turns out Jack knows breathing exercises or something. I'm still sort of pissed, but whatever." Michael was now very aware that he didn't get any real apology. He was determined not to let it bother him, he had enough on his plate.

Ryan pursed his lips, once again annoyed by Michael's unwillingness to stand up for himself- at least in these types of situation. He dialed the man's number, deciding that it would be more efficient to talk to him directly.

Michael jumped at his ringtone, squirming out of Geoff's grasp and out of the room entirely, finally picking the phone up with an easy. "Hey"

"Hey," Ryan parroted, "Is everything alright with Geoff?" He wanted to reaffirm that fact, if nothing else. He really didn't trust the tattooed man to think of anything but himself, at least 80% of the time.

"I already answered this, he blurted everything out but he seemed apologetic enough. It's fine." He rambled slightly, moving to grab a bottle of water out of the fridge and taking a swig. It was nice to hear Ryan's voice, and he instantly wondered if he would let him sit on his lap and rub his back. He was still aware the act was childish, but it was one of the few things Jackson had done that was actually sweet and his body was craving it almost as much as the drugs.

"Mm," Ryan replied, still sounding slightly skeptical. "Has he changed your bandages? The cuts should be almost healed by now, so you don't necessarily need them, but it's best not to let them sit." He had no idea if Geoff's medical knowledge could even fill a teaspoon.

Michael glanced down at his body, they'd never re-wrapped them... "Uh, we took them off so I could shower, sort of forgot to put them back on."

 

Ryan let out a small, exasperated sigh, shaking his head. "Well, that should be fine. Just make sure to clean them off with a washcloth, especially the ones on your hips. But, other than that, you're having fun?"

"Yeah, I am." Michael murmured, opening a few of Geoff's cabinets to try to find something to eat, he'd really only had a few beers and not much to actually intake. He grabbed out a cream filled oatmeal cookie before setting it back, choosing instead to grab a banana that was sitting out. "What about you, what've you been up to?"

"Finishing this crap novel, disposing of evidence, doing research… The usual," Ryan shrugged. He made a face at the book in front of him, as if glaring at it would somehow improve the contents. He'd rather play a few free games in Alpha that he'd found on Steam, but he was feeling itchy, and reading D-list novels about the romantic exploits of a serial killer relieved the feeling, somewhat.

"Sounds boring." Michael mused easily, holding his phone between his shoulder and ear so that he could take off the banana peel. He held it again, taking a bite of the fruit. "Like really boring."

"Despite what I do for a living, my life is generally pretty boring, yeah," Ryan replied, getting up from the couch and stretching. He picked up his butterfly knife from his desk, flicking it open and closed idly.

Michael took another bite of the fruit and sat down on one of the barstools. He wasn't exactly sure how to keep up the conversation. "I got my knife back."

Ryan's raised his eyebrows, the topic catching his interest. "Oh? Good, I was afraid Jack might forget about it."

"Yeah, thank fuck." Michael smiled, tossing the banana peel into the trash before kicking his feet up on the counter. "So..."

"Do I get to use it?" Ryan asked, a slow grin spreading over his face. It really was a nice knife, despite the fact that the semi-serrated edge wasn't the best for cutting flesh.

Michael grimaced, remembering vaguely what Geoff had said about body shots. "Sure." He murmured carefully, running a hand across his eyes. He let a shiver race through him at the idea of Ryan using his own knife to cut him up.

"I meant what I said about caring for your wounds though," Ryan admonished, his serious tone returning. "If you don't, you're going to end up with a nasty infection, or at least some scarring."

 

"I'll put some disinfectant on or something later." Michael shrugged nonchalantly, it took too much work to fix them all up himself, plus they really didn't hurt so bad. He let himself relax back into the sound of Ryan's calming voice.

Ryan rolled his eyes; Michael was horrible at self care. "So, what did you do last night besides get bevved? Indulge me, with my sad, boring life."

"Played games, mostly. Nothing too exciting really." Michael was definitely not about to tell Ryan about Geoff giving him a handjob under a blanket. "Oh, and we talked about the Heist, of course, you're on lookout with Ray, in case you were wondering."

"R&R connection," Ryan muttered dryly, though he really did enjoy being paired with Ray on missions. He was competent, if nothing else, and enjoyable to talk to. "Bank robbery, I presume?"

"Yep, simple, in and out. Money split two ways and we take off." Michael shrugged his shoulders even though Ryan couldn't see him. "I think Geoff said there was probably like 50,000."

Ryan nodded despite the fact that the man on the other end of the line couldn't see him, "Good. I've had my eye on a new tactical knife…" He did pretty well for himself, generally, but with all the off shore accounts and the steady buffer he kept in case of emergencies, dealing with money could be a hassle.

"Cool." Michael commented easily, running a hand lazily across the top of his shirt, poking at one of the slices absentmindedly.

"Sorry," Ryan muttered, "I forget that most people aren't as enthusiastic about knives as I am." Fuck, he hated talking over the phone. Things got awkward easily.

"No, it's fine. I like hearing you talk about them." Michael continued to prod his finger along the cut, wincing slightly when it stung. He really hadn't minded Ryan talking about it, but then again he could probably talk about grass and Michael would still listen.

Ryan raised an eyebrow, but continued, "Well, it's a CRKT Shinbu, which means it's going to be one of the bigger blades in my arsenal. Nine and a quarter inches of high-carbon steel, with a gorgeous trailing point and a traditional, cord-wrapped handle."

Michael moved his hand down to the cuts on his hips, poking them harshly as he listened to the words. "Sounds sexy." Michael commented with a smirk.

Ryan chuckled, unable to bite back a smile. "Very. I'll call you when it gets delivered… It's too big to be good for detail work, but it should make some lovely gashes."

 

Michael grinned, the fact that he wanted to use it on him right when he got it sent shivers across his body. He made sure to press his hand harder into the cuts, just to enjoy the words more. "Mmm, that sounds nice." He glanced back at the hallway, checking to see if Geoff had managed to scramble from bed, he didn't expect it; of course, not with all the man had to drink last night.

Ryan let out a soft sigh, "You were right when you said my life was boring… I miss you." He felt so defective, so codependent… Fuck. He needed to get back in control. Maybe he'd go out to a bar tonight, find someone with a nice laugh and an even better scream.

Michael tilted his head at that, it sounded /different/ coming from Ryan and it took him by surprise. "Do you want to grab something to eat, maybe? Geoff's gonna be in a coma pretty much all day anyway." Michael murmured easily, he really wouldn't mind grabbing a bite to eat, the banana had done little to actually appease his stomach.

"Mm, definitely. Do you remember where that little diner we ate at a week ago is? I need to harass the chef again, anyways." The slimy bastard had tried to short change him last time, and Ryan wasn't going to let that slide.

"Yeah, I can find it. I'll meet you there in ten or so minutes." Michael murmured, pressing the end call button and stretching his arms up. He walked back towards Geoff's room with a yawn, moving in and grabbing his pants.

Geoff rolled over, eyes blinking open at the sound of someone shuffling around his room. "Michael? Fuck… Come back t' bed." He sounded half asleep and half drunk, reaching out for the man with hooded eyes and wiggling his fingers.

Michael smiled at him, letting out a laugh as he pulled his jeans up over his hips. He buttoned his pants before moving closer and pressing a quick kiss to the man's cheek. "I'm gonna go eat lunch with Ryan, actually." Michael murmured carefully, a little hesitant of how he'd react. "Get some rest, Geoff."

"Nooo," Geoff mumbled, but buried himself deeper under the covers anyways. "Fine. Have fun… Don't do body shots- that's my thing." He clumsily pulled the covers over his head, trying to block out the light.

"I won't." Michael smirked, patting Geoff on the stomach over the covers. He pulled back, checking his phone for his pocket before grabbing a beanie and forcing it over his head. He shut Geoff's door lightly before heading off towards the front door and sliding his feet into his sneakers. He opened the door and headed out, it was a short enough walk to the diner.

Ryan drummed his fingers on the edge of the table, lounging in the corner booth and trying to focus on his novel. At this point, he really didn't know why "Jessica" wasn't dead with all the blood she's lost… Or why the main character hadn't bothered to tie her up with anything more substantial than the bed sheets. And, of course, why he hadn't gagged her- weren't they in a motel, for Christ's sake? He set the book down with an exasperated sigh.

Michael found the walk mostly uneventful, he'd only had to flip off a few assholes when he walked in the middle of the street. That was the problem with drivers, they acted all tough because they were behind a vehicle but Michael knew most of them wouldn't dare to actually get out of the car. He opened the door of the diner, training his eyes to the familiar booth and ignoring the hostess questions. He walked back over to Ryan. "Hey."

Ryan took a moment to dog-ear the corner of the page to save his spot; the book wasn't worth keeping in good condition. He slid it to the side, giving Michael a smile and motioning for him to sit down. "How are you?"

Michael smiled at him, sliding into the booth across from him. "I'm alright, what about you?" He tapped his fingers across the table, fidgeting with the cheap wood.

"Annoyed at the inaccuracies of cheap romance novels, mostly," Ryan shrugged. He barely even knew why he bought them anymore. Honestly, killing someone might be less of a painful experience than reading about it.

"Did you really expect them to be accurate?" Michael questioned, arching an eyebrow at him as he kicked his feet up in the booth and leaned against the wall casually.

"I keep hoping. I've found a few that aren't too bad, but if I read about one more prostitute getting murdered in a cheap motel, I think I might have to go do it myself. Honestly… Who ties someone up with bedsheets?"

Michael let out a laugh, shaking his head. "Why the hell not just buy fucking rope of something?" Michael scoffed, the writers had obviously never so much as talked to a murderer.

"It would ruin the mood of /stabbing a hooker to death/," Ryan said sarcastically, "Not to mention, even the sex scenes are mediocre at best. I have a list somewhere back home of all the words I've seen used to describe a cock that should /never/ be used to describe a cock."

Michael let out another giggle at that, clutching his stomach habitually as he laughed. "To be fair, aren't those usually written by lonely forty year old women?" He let out a playful smirk, honestly he found it intriguing that Ryan read those novels so often, Michael himself didn't really consider reading fun, but hey.

"Even a 40 year old woman should know not to use the term 'meat stick'," Ryan said, trying to keep his face composed, though when he'd actually read the term, he'd almost fallen over from laughing so hard.

 

Michael let out another series of laughs, "Fuckin' meat stick? Seriously?" He shook his head at the ridiculousness of the word, how did Ryan even make it through those novels? Michael swore he'd be in a fit of giggles every time he read a sentence.

"Yeah… I couldn't get through that one," Ryan's facade broke, and he grinned. One of the waiters walked over to them, nervously handing the older man a glass of water and asking Michael what he'd like to drink.

"Uh, water's fine." Michael shrugged, turning his attention back to Ryan in a dismissive gesture. He crossed his arms over his chest, enjoying the lounged out feeling. It was nice to spend time with Ryan, he really had missed him.

Ryan's attention was drawn to the movement, and he was reminded of their earlier conversation. "Did you actually clean your cuts like I asked?" he raised an eyebrow coolly.

Michael blinked back at him, he hadn't remembered to do that... "Uh, I forgot." He murmured, chewing on his bottom lip before shrugging. "I think they're fine though." Though he wasn't sure, he hadn't looked at them since the bath with Geoff earlier.

Ryan rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat. "Honestly, I don't think I've met someone worse at self care than you are. How do you even remember to eat?"

"I don't." Michael shrugged, it was the truth mostly, unless there was food in front of him or his stomach was growling excessively he didn't remember. Ryan's words didn't bother him he knew he was bad at caring for himself, plus on top of all the impulsive actions it was quite a success he wasn't dead yet.

Ryan sighed, beckoning their waiter over with a twitch of his fingers. The man complied, practically jogging to their booth with a nervous expression. "I'll have a burger, rare, with a side of fries. Michael will have- something substantial." He gave the younger man a look that dared him to argue.

Michael rolled his eyes but obliged, waiting for the man to write down the orders before turning back to Ryan. "They're really terrified of you here, huh?" He mused, smile forming on the corner of his lips.

Ryan grinned, as if it was a source of personal pride for him. "Of course. Their old chef was a pretty prominent dealer, so most of them vaguely who I am and what I can do."

Michael chuckled lightly, he could understand where they were coming from, Ryan just had the whole psycho thing going for him. He tapped his fingers across the table, eyes glancing over to the workers. "They look like they might piss themselves if you so much as look at them."

Ryan shrugged nonchalantly, as if the whole thing was of no concern to him, "Well, I also may have murdered one of their coworkers." The man had deserved it, though: a muscular douchebag with a voice like honey and a scream twice as sweet. He'd spent his time groping the waitresses' asses, and even a few of the customers. Ryan had left his body in the dumpster behind the diner, leaving it for the garbage man to find when he emptied its contents the next morning. Usually he wasn't so careless as to kill people he knew, but his skin had been positively on fire that night.

"That'll do it." Michael murmured, arching his eyebrows up and turning his gaze back to Ryan's blue eyes. "What's it like?" He asked, as if it was a casual question and not the fucked up reality of what he was actually asking.

The older man raised an eyebrow, "Killing people, or having them be afraid of you?" He knew Michael had shot, stabbed, and what-have-you numerous people, but the intimacy of torture was a lot different than a quick bullet to the brain.

"Killing people. Like actually torturing them and shit." He murmured, moving to sit up straighter in the booth, resting his elbows on the table and leaning forward to listen to Ryan intently.

Ryan closed his eyes, trying to think of the perfect word to describe the experience. "Intimate… It's just you, and a knife, and someone else. You're completely in control of everything except them… You /discover/ them. Learn the core of their personality by the way they beg- or don't- and what they beg for. For death, for mercy, for you not to cut off their fingers, as if they'll need them when you're done. And they all scream differently…"

Michael tilted his head slightly, listening intently to the man in front of him. It was fascinating to say the least and Michael found himself more and more intrigued. "Wow..." He hummed lightly, remembering back to when he saw Ryan torture the woman, it was almost amazing to watch.

Ryan's eyes opened slowly and he gave Michael a smirk. "It's better than sex." Even when the older man was cutting the redhead open, it wasn't quite the same… You didn't have an equal amount of control- you were still asking, there were still other things to consider, and you only went as far as they wanted. It was hot as hell, but it didn't permanently relieve the itch.

"Interesting." Michael hummed out, he wasn't shocked that Ryan liked it better than sex, though he assumed it wouldn't be the same for him. Though he had to admit, he was curious to see if he did like it, if he could even do it.

"Why do you ask?" Ryan raised an eyebrow, taking another drink of water. He wondered if the younger man was still thinking about Jackson. If so, he should really mention that work and play were vastly different… Not that he didn't enjoy them both.

 

"Just curious." Michael shrugged, leaning back into the booth and laying his head back unto the booth. "It's fascinating, really." He mused.

"Ah, I see. You only like me because you get an inside look at the mind of a psychopath," Ryan joked, moving his arms off the table as their waiter returned, carrying identical meals. Burgers were substantial enough, the older man decided, sliding one over to Michael.

Michael chuckled. "You're right, you see I'm actually planning on writing a romance novel and I decided to do a little research before I start." he smart mouthed, taking a bite of the burger and humming in contentedness, it filled his empty stomach well and he was glad for the warmth of the food. He chewed it down before shoving some fries into his mouth.

"The market for gay erotica featuring serial killers and love triangles isn't very big," Ryan commented, taking a bite out of his burger, pleased to find that it was deliciously rare. "You'll have a very niche readership."

Michael let out another brief laugh at that, before taking a drink of water he hadn't seen them set down. He swallowed the cold liquid, thankful for the hydration. He took another chunk out of the burger.

"But I'd read it," Ryan added, "It probably won't be much worse than some of the crap I've subjected myself to." There were some things you just wish you hadn't read.

"You should start a book club or something." Michael joked, flashing him a grin before stuffing a few more fries in his mouth.

"Yeah? Who would come? I don't have any friends, remember," Ryan took another bite of his food, disguising the slight bitterness in his words with an arched eyebrow.

"Just tie people up and force them to read." Michael suggested with a smirk, "I'd offer to, but I don't read." He chuckled out, taking another swig of water

"Mm, maybe I'll tie /you/ up and force a decent book on you- not some trashy romance novel," Ryan mused, popping a fry into his mouth and chewing slowly.

Michael smirked, "But there are so many more fun things to do with me tied up then make me read." He teased back, sticking out his tongue playfully.

The corners of Ryan's mouth twitched into a wicked smile, "Oh really? Like what?" He could feel the weight on his chest lifting: the one that sunk down on him when he was bored, or stressed, or plagued with an itch that he couldn't sate. He felt codependent and out of control… or perhaps in Michael's control.

 

Michael tilted his head as if he was thinking over the possibilities. "Well, I'm not sure, that's why I'm the one tied up. But I suppose you could use some of those knives in your collection, or maybe a few of those toys I know you have, and I mean there's always /my/ knife if you can't find any of yours." Michael hummed out.

Ryan's eyes slid over Michael hungrily, as if he was considering the best way to devour the man before him. "Oh… I have plenty of ideas… But I'm not sure if you'll be able to walk, afterwards." In reality, that was the least of the older man's concerns. He didn't trust Michael to take care of his wounds, and Geoff could be inattentive at the best of times.

Michael swallowed, flushing slightly under Ryan's intensive eyes. He shifted slightly in his seat, shrugging nonchalantly. "Fine by me." He mused, taking another french fry from his plate.

Ryan broke into a grin, taking another bite out of his burger with a chuckle. At this point, Michael looked more appetizing than the food before him, but he'd rather seduce him slowly than jump him in a diner.

Michael took another sip of his water, feeling a little uncomfortable in the silence of the diner. "So, Geoff didn't mind the cuts as much as I thought he would..." He mused, kicking his foot up over on Ryan's booth.

Ryan let his hand stray over to Michael's foot, resting there for a moment as he idly stroked the skin of the man's ankle, "Geoff didn't mind /me/ as much as I thought he would." The man was more mature than Ryan had given him credit for.

"Yeah, that too. He wants me to measure your dick though." Michael cracked a smile, raising his eyebrows up as he moved his foot to rest on Ryan's lap instead.

Ryan's eyebrows shot up at he couldn't help the laugh that forced its way from his throat. "Really?" he choked out through another peel of laughter, taking a long drink of water to calm himself. Jesus, Geoff was more insecure than he'd thought.

Michael smiled broadly at the way he laughed, he was definitely adorable he decided. An adorable murderer for sure. "I mean, I don't blame him, you're pretty intimidating."

Ryan's chuckles died down and he raised his glass to Michael in a mock toast, "I'll take that as a compliment… Unless you mean my dick's intimidating, in which case, I have no idea how to take it." He'd never been much for the kind of posturing that inspired people to lay it on the table and measure, but perhaps that was because he was- generally- fairly well endowed himself. The idea that Geoff was possibly /jealous/ over something as rudimentary as the size of his cock made him want to burst into another fit of giggles.

 

Michael let out a laugh, shaking his head. "Nah, your dick isn't intimidating. Your personality, however." The conversation felt oddly casual, and he found himself enjoying it immensely. He pushed his food aside, taking another drink of the water instead.

"Well, people whose primary job happens to be torturing people don't tend to be all kisses and rainbows," Ryan remarked dryly. He'd always had a dark sense of humor, and what he did for a living had only exacerbated it.

"True, I suppose." Michael commented, "Though you seem to be giving kisses out to me alot." He let out a soft giggle, moving his foot off of Ryan's lap.

"You're the exception," Ryan teased, grabbing the man's foot before it could slip out of his lap. He traced the outline of Michael's ankle bone with a finger, eating another handful of fries with typical grace.

Michael smirked when Ryan grabbed his foot, enjoying the light traces of Ryan's finger. He leant forward to take a fry off of Ryan's plate, given that he'd already eaten his.

Ryan rolled his eyes, not bothering to swat the man's hand away. He finished off the rest of his burger easily, making a pleased noise at the taste: grease and cheese and nearly raw meat. "Geoff seriously wants you to measure my dick?" the older man asked with a chuckle.

"Yeah, well not really. I'm not getting a fucking tape measure out, don't worry." Michael laughed, sticking the fry in mouth and leaning back against the booth.

"No, no, by all means," Ryan raised up his hands in mock surrender, "If that's what he wants, I'll whip it out in the name of peace." He wiggled his eyebrows, unable to suppress another chuckle.

Michael let out a fit of giggles, shaking his head lightly. "I told him you guys should just compare them next time you're together."

Ryan shrugged, rolling his eyes, "It's all just bullshit Alpha-male posturing. He could be asking for my gamerscore, for all it matters. He just wants to feel superior."

"And what about you? You don't want to feel superior?" Michael questioned, tilting his head curiously.

Ryan paused for a moment, his hands continuing to stroke the skin of Michael's ankle as he considered the best way to phrase his thoughts. "No, not particularly. Just… In control. There's a large difference between the two, and generally I like to think I'm aware of my flaws. The only people who desire to feel superior are those who can't accept theirs."

 

Michael nodded, he knew Geoff had an issue with knowing his flaws, and that made it probably his worst flaw. "I think that's Geoff pretty much." Michael shrugged, it was just how he was Michael definitely wasn't going to try to change him. "I'm still kind of pissed about last night.." He murmured, biting at his lip as he tried to find out how he was feeling.

"Did he lose his temper, or was he just being insensitive?" Ryan asked, raising an eyebrow. Both were very /Geoff/ things to do. Their boss was generally laid back, but when something got under his skin, he'd dig it out with his fingernails- metaphorically, of course. In reality, it involved a lot of obscenities and giving orders.

"It's just, I don't know Jack was pissed and she told Geoff he couldn't just go off killing my exes because he was jealous. And he, I guess, got upset and spilled everything. But like he barely even apologized when I broke down, and then he drank. Which I mean, is fine, I don't give a shit, it was just sort of like after I /seemed/ fine, so he didn't even care." Michael murmured, shrugging his shoulders, it was dumb really and he shouldn't even be complaining to Ryan about it, but he was still pretty hurt.

Ryan nodded, popping the last few fries into his mouth. "Some people are like that; they may feel guilty and can't admit it, or the guilt is washed away by more immediate desires. Their own needs come first, and even though they care about you, your emotions are still a secondary consideration.”

"I guess so, whatever, it doesn't matter." Michael muttered, glancing up at the guy who came to grab their plates. "Can I go home with you for a little while or a night or something?"

Ryan raised an eyebrow, but nodded. He felt like he was having an illicit affair with the man, despite the fact that he and Geoff weren't even dating. He almost snickered when he thought of all the cliché love triangle stereotypes the three of them fit into; he was 'dangerous' and 'rebellious' (Not to mention a murderer), while Geoff was generally a safe, known choice, despite his flaws. "Sure, whatever you want."

Michael grinned, but it fell a moment later when his mind poured in the doubts. "I don't have to, if you don't want me to... I just thought- cause you missed me and all..." Michael murmured, he definitely didn't want to overstay his welcome with the man.

"Please," Ryan murmured, standing up and offering the man his hand, "You make life /so/ much more interesting."

Michael's smile formed back on his face as he took Ryan's hand. "I thought you had to terrify the chef again." He stood up, part of him wanted to kiss Ryan, but they were definitely in public and he didn't want to mess with his reputation.

 

"Mm, he'll pay for our lunch," Ryan grinned, shooting their lingering waiter a cool glare. The man's eyes widened, and he scurried off to the kitchen, clutching their bill in his hands. Ah, scare tactics. Reputation and a muscular physique meant people were generally willing to do anything you asked, though he'd get the rest of his money before the week was out.

Michael let out a laugh, adjusting his beanie on his head and beginning to walk from the diner. "Did you drive or walk?"

"I drove," Ryan replied, cocking his head towards his discreet, black vehicle. He dug his keys out of his pocket, unlocking the door with the press of a button.

Michael nodded, already headed toward the car and opening the passenger side once he got there, he climbed inside, shutting the door behind him. He automatically pulled down the visor to block out the sun.

Ryan slid into the stuffy interior of the car, putting the key in the ignition and starting the car. He made sure to buckle himself in, giving Michael a quick glance to make sure he was too.

Michael rolled his eyes, but buckled himself in anyway, he let his arm rest on the divider, one foot kicking up to rest on the cars dashboard. He hummed lightly before moving forward and placing his hand on Ryan's, stopping him from putting the car in reverse. He pressed their lips together lightly before pulling back and resting against the seat.

Ryan raised an eyebrow, looking at the other man for a moment, before putting the car in reverse and pulling out onto the busy Los Santos streets. "What was that for?"

"No reason." Michael shrugged, truth was he'd been wanting to do that since he saw the man. Ryan stirred up emotions in him he couldn't understand sometimes.

Ryan chuckled, navigating the afternoon traffic with ease, one hand on the wheel as he relaxed back into his seat. He reached over with his free hand, resting it on Michael's thigh with innocently… Honestly, he enjoyed the human contact, despite the fact that he'd convinced himself he didn't need it.

Michael jumped slightly at the contact, noting that Ryan's hand was warm and definitely nice. It was an oddly intimate touch, and he felt himself flush though Ryan wasn't even doing anything. He was once again reminded just how different Ryan was than the other men he'd fucked, Geoff probably would've already been edging his hand up and Jackson would've smacked his thigh and forced him over his lap.

Ryan withdrew his hand when Michael flinched, returning it to the wheel. "Sorry," he murmured, a bit embarrassed by his presumptuous behavior, "Didn't mean to startle you."

Michael sent him a glare, leaning forward to grab at the man's hand and pull it back towards his thigh. "I'm just jumpy, it's been a stressful few days." He shot the man a smile, relaxing back into the seat of the car.

Ryan chuckled, squeezing the man's thigh lightly, not taking his eyes off the road. "I can imagine... Or rather, I can't, but I can sympathize, if not empathize."

Michael scratched at the back of his neck, eyes scanning across the road as he waited for them to reach Ryan's house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright alright, there's your precious Ryan back ;)   
> No but seriously, I hope you guys enjoyed<3 Comments are always appreciated, thanks!


	37. Chapter 37

Ryan pulled into the garage of his apartment complex, parking and turning off the car. He shoved his keys in his pocket, opening the driver's side door before coming around to open the other side for Michael.

Michael unbuckled his seatbelt, stepping from the car and laughing at Ryan for opening his door. "If you think you get sex just because you took me out for lunch and opened my door..." Michael mused, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "You'd probably be right, but still."

"Please, I am nothing, if not a gentleman," Ryan scoffed, but couldn't help but throw Michael a wink over his shoulder as he walked towards the building's entrance. He pressed the button that would lock his car remotely, waiting for the other man to catch up.

Michael let out a scoff, jogging to catch up with him. Once he did he jumped up on Ryan's back, grabbing the man's shoulders for leverage so that he could wrap his legs around him, receiving a forced piggy back ride from it.

Ryan let out a surprised puff of laughter, but hoisted the man a little further up onto his back nonetheless. He grabbed Michael's thighs, making sure he would go tumbling off the older man's back. "You're such a child."

"Yeah, well." Michael commented with a shrug, leaning forward to bite at his ear, he wrapped his arms around the man's neck as well to support himself a little more. It was childish, but hey he didn't feel like walking and Ryan was strong enough so he might as well use him.

When Ryan pushed through the building's main doors, advising Michael to duck his head, he swore the old woman behind the front desk did a double take. He gave her a small wave, containing his grin until the elevator doors dinged open and he pressed the button for his floor.

Michael gave her a two fingered salute as the doors closed, leaning forward to press a kiss to the corner of Ryan's mouth. It was oddly flirty, the whole situation they were in, but he definitely wasn't going to complain.

Ryan snickered, kneeling down momentarily so that Michael could climb off his back. "I think she just about had a heart attack."

Michael slid off of his back easily, letting out a laugh. "I guess it's not very normal for you to carry in someone on your back that's not dead, or soon to be dead, body, huh?" He leant back against the wall of the elevator.

"Please," Ryan snorted, "I never bring people to my apartment. Much too suspicious, for the amount of people I kill. Once I could get away with it- maybe- but not more than that. Plus, what would the neighbors think of the screams?"

"I don't know, what do they think of mine?" Michael smirked back, recalling the last time when Ryan had asked him to scream, the thought still made him shiver.

"No one's been brave enough to tell me," Ryan chuckled, stepping through the elevator doors as they dinged open. "We'll probably get the cops called on us at some point, though."

Michael followed him out of the doors with a shrug. "Cops don't scare me." He mused lightly, he could and had talked his way out of multiple situations with cops. It was easy with his innocent eyes and charismatic smile.

"Good. It would be hard to be a decent gangster and still be afraid of cops," Ryan teased, digging his keys out of his pocket and moving to unlock the door to his apartment.

Michael let out a laugh, moving to stick his hands in his pockets. He walked in behind Ryan when he opened the door, taking in the apartment casually.

Ryan shut the door behind the younger man, flopping down on the couch and turning on the TV. He made a face; idly flipping through channel after channel of boring material.

Michael walked over to the couch, sitting down beside Ryan. He only took a few seconds before sliding closer and bumping their shoulders together.

Ryan turned away from the TV, raising an eyebrow and giving the man a wicked smirk. It was odd; Michael seemed to understand his specific brand of silent communication better than almost anyone he'd met.

Michael smiled back, sliding a hand to the man's cheek before pressing their lips together lightly. He pulled away only a few seconds later, pulling his feet up and relaxing back against the couch.

Ryan chuckled, wrapping an arm around Michael's shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "What do you want to do?"

"I don't care. Movie, maybe?" Michael mused, leaning into Ryan's embrace and placing a hand on his thigh gently.

"Mm, sure. What do you want to watch?" Ryan wasn't particularly well acquainted with any of the current popular titles, so he thought it best to let Michael choose.

"This is the End?" Michael suggested, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. It was a decent movie, nothing necessarily committal but funny enough.

 

Ryan shrugged, handing over the remote to Michael. "Never seen it." He tucked the other man against his side, kicking off his shoes.

Michael used the search option on the TV, clicking the play button once he found it. He tossed the remote to the side, yanking off his shoes before sliding back into Ryan's embrace. "It's pretty funny."

 

Ryan raised his eyebrows as the end credits rolled. "Mm, not bad. Not exactly my cup of tea, but still."

Michael yawned, shrugging his shoulders, he'd taken a bit of a nap during it to be honest. At some point during the movie he'd prompted Ryan to lay down and he was now snuggled contently in between the man's body and the back of the couch. "And what is your cup of tea?"

Ryan shrugged, shifting so that his back was more comfortably pressed into the cushions. "Silence of the Lambs- psychological thrillers. Though I do have a big soft spot for the Princess Bride."

"Why am I not surprised at all?" Michael chuckled, pressing a kiss to the crook of the man's neck. He let his hand rub circles along the man's stomach, he was getting a bit antsy just sitting around and he was swearing he could see something out of the corner of his eye. He briefly wondered just how long he could avoid going home, he was /eventually/ going to run out of clothes. Though he could always get Geoff to take him to a store so he could buy some, he'd ask Ryan but he sort of doubted the man would be that interested.

"Because you know me too well," Ryan murmured, "Now I'm going to have to kill you." He grinned, rolling over on top of the other man, straddling his hips and pressing a quick, biting kiss to the crook of Michael's neck in a playful gesture.

Michael chuckled, winding his arms around the man's neck and giggling softly at the bite. "Well, at least I had a good run." He mused lightly, letting his head fall back so that Ryan could continue to kiss at his neck.

"Aw, it's no fun if you don't fight back," Ryan pulled back. "I guess I'll have to kill you some other time..." He moved to roll off Michael.

"Hold on, wait I forgot my character." Michael smirked, grabbing Ryan's shoulders and letting out a few fake coughs. "Please don't kill me, please, I don't want to die." He pouted out his bottom lip and shifted his hips dramatically.

 

Ryan snickered, "I haven't heard anyone begging for their life so unenthusiastically before." Nevertheless, he leaned down, bracketing Michael's face with his arms and teasing the man's earlobe with his teeth.

"Yeah well, that's why I'm in a gang and not the oscars." Michael murmured, staring up at the man's eyes. He could feel a shiver run through him just by the position alone.

"Mm, well right now I'd rather have /you/ than some screaming victim, so it works out," Ryan murmured, pulling back to give Michael a warm smile.

Michael smiled at the odd sweetness of the sentence, he pulled him in closer, pressing their lips together heatedly.

Ryan pulled away after a moment, getting off of Michael and offering the man his hand. "If we're going to have sex- which, of course, we don't have to- I'd rather not do it on my couch again."

Michael took his hand, grin forming on his features as he tugged Ryan towards the man's room. "Remember when you hated me?" He mused, chuckling lightly.

"Mm, vividly. And, for the record, you're still overly emotional and highly irrational. But I suppose I've learned to appreciate it," Ryan stopped for a moment to give the man a small kiss.

Michael only laughed, kissing the man back lightly as he walked through the doors of Ryan's room, he slid a hand down to rest at the man's stomach, trailing it up across his chest.

Ryan chuckled, wrapping his arms around Michael and pulling him close, effectively trapping the man's hand between them. He leaned in, resting his forehead on Michael's, reveling in the simple contact. Intimacy came in so many forms.

Michael leaned in more to bump their noses together, allowing Ryan to cuddle him mostly. "I need more clothes." He murmured quietly, mainly just to take up the silence.

"Okay, that deserves some sort of snarky comment about how you should be wearing fewer clothes, but I'll let it slide," the older man teased, brushing a stray lock of hair behind Michael's ear. It was short enough now that it just fell back into its original position, but that was beside the point.

Michael let out a short laugh, moving his free hand down to brush against Ryan's lower back, sliding his fingers up under his shirt.

Ryan mimicked that action, sliding his large hands over Michael's shoulder blade and leaning in to kiss the crook of his neck. "Are you afraid to go home?" He murmured the words into the skin, gentle and emotionless.

"Don't make fun of me." Michael muttered, nodding his head a second later. Truth was it went beyond just being afraid; he was outright terrified and he'd been avoiding it the moment he got out of there. His house was most likely a mess from all the objects he'd bumped into throughout his fights and panics, there wasn't even any food in the cabinets and he really didn't want to work to clean his bed. He was scared out of his mind that the entire visit would just involve him having flashbacks.

"When have I ever made fun of you, Michael?" Ryan asked, gently rubbing his hands over the younger man's back. Honesty, he couldn't say if he would've survived all that Michael had been through.

"You haven't." Michael muttered, shaking his head and pulling away to sink down to the floor. He rubbed his hands furiously over his face, letting out an annoyed huff. "I just want to /stop/ feeling like this. Like, like he's fucking watching me constantly, I know he's not. I know he's dead and gone and he can't bother me anymore, I know I should just /get over it/." Michael let out another sigh, the words were mainly from Gavin and he had been right, he did need to grow the fuck up and mature a little bit. "Hell, I've put on a fucking brave face, I've done fucking good. I know Geoff doesn't want to talk about it, he doesn't want to know that I'm seeing things- so I don't say it, but it doesn't make it go away."

Ryan carefully folded himself onto the floor beside the younger man, reaching out to put a hand on Michael's knee. "There's no way to just 'get over it.' It's not that simple, and it's different for everyone. Hell, my my of 'getting over it' was sticking a kitchen knife in my mother's stomach, and that didn't even work all the way. You have to work at it, find out how to deal on your own. All anyone else can do is give you advice.."

Michael let himself crawl forward, wrapping his arms around Ryan and practically setting himself in his lap. He burrowed his face into his shoulder, ignoring the slight wetness in his eyes. "And what if I don't find a way to deal with it? What happens then?"

"Either you continue on like this, or you go insane," Ryan shrugged. He didn't do sugarcoating, but he made sure not to say the words too harshly. "But there is a way to deal with it, believe me." He gave the top of Michael's head kiss, "Don't let him control you anymore."

Michael sniffled, moving a hand to rest on the side of Ryan's neck. He took a deep breath, nodding his head against him. "I don't want to go home yet." He murmured quietly, thankful that Ryan was so quick to let him cling to him. It was odd, he'd always expected Geoff to be the one that was better at cuddling, but Ryan just felt so much more... comforting.

"You don't have to," Ryan reassured him, "In your own time." He stroked Michael's hair, running his fingers through it for a moment. He let the younger man cuddle against him, practically in his lap at this point. They were tangled together, inextricably.

Michael shuffled slightly against him, moving his leg so he wasn't resting uncomfortably, half-leant over the man with no real balance except for the way he was pressing their chests together. He shifted the position for a closer contact, sliding legs on either side of him and pressing a few kisses across his cheek and jaw line. It was more thankful than anything.

Ryan wrapped his arms around the younger man, laying down slowly until his back was pressed against the carpet and Michael was on top of him. He rolled over gently, depositing the man on his side so that they were facing each other. He stroked the man's cheek with a thumb, leaning forwards and kissing his forehead.

Michael smiled, trailing his fingertips across Ryan's hip bone and up across his side. It was nice that Ryan was barely advancing the situation, he was content with idle touches and small kisses. Not that Geoff wasn't, things just always led to sex, and with Ryan it seemed everything ended up intimate. Though he was probably just biased right now due to his residual anger.

"I can't get enough of touching you..." Ryan murmured, tracing the planes of Michael's cheekbones with a far off look in his eyes, "When did that happen?"

Michael blinked up at him, offering a small shrug. "I don't know." He murmured back, leaning forward to press their lips together lightly before pulling away.

Ryan gave him a deep, penetrating once-over, as if he could somehow glean the answers he was seeking by staring at the younger man. It had been what? Two weeks? And yet, he was more /invested/ in Michael than in partners he'd spend 6 months with. It was strange, disorienting, and he wasn't sure whether or not he liked it.

Michael rolled back over onto his back, moving one of his arms behind his head and moving to tangle their hands together. "Are you trying to stare inside my soul?" He muttered, chuckling lightly.

"Yes," The older man dead panned, giving Michael a supremely serious look before breaking into a smile. "So far, I haven't found anything." Though that statement was more true of his own soul than the auburn haired man's.

Michael let out a sharp laugh, pressing a slight slap to Ryan's face. He had to admit he's put a little more sting in it than he meant to, making sure to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth of Ryan's lips. He let out another small laugh as he pulled back. "Sorry."

The corner of Ryan's mouth twitched spasmodically, as if he was trying to suppress some sort of knee jerk reaction to the blow. He sat up, holding out a hand for Michael to pull himself up. "It's fine."

 

Michael took his hand, pulling himself up easily and rubbing at the slightly reddening spot. "Seriously, sorry babe." He murmured.

"/Babe/?" Ryan raised an eyebrow, an amused expression playing over his features. Since when was he the one being subjected to coupley pet names?

"Sounded better than dude." Michael shrugged, moving to flop back against Ryan's bed, content to sigh at the plushness of the blanket. Ryan's bed was almost annoyingly comfortable.

"Okay, sure, but /babe/?" Ryan snickered, sitting on the bed beside the younger man. "Michael... I kill people for a living. I don't think 'babe' is the right pet name."

Michael blinked over at him, furrowing his brow lightly. "Would you prefer schizo?" He murmured, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Please," Ryan snorted, "I'm hardly schizophrenic. You fit the term more than I do."

Michael let out a gasp, placing a hand over his heart. "I prefer bipolar suffering with PTSD, thank you very much." He rolled himself over on top of Ryan, straddling him as he patted his stomach lightly. "'sides, I'm not the one that gets off on torturing people, though you're right, that's psychopathic, not schizophrenic." Michael smirked, he'd never really been one for therapy or diagnosis, it was all dumb to him and he'd been hearing people make excuses for his fits since he was five.

"Mm, your name sounds better than mine," Ryan murmured, "Maybe I'll get someone to officially diagnose me. Wanna place bets on what I'll get?"

"Hmm, well, I'm thinking they'll probably classify you with Antisocial Personality Disorder, or maybe Narcissistic Personality Disorder depending on how you answer the questions." Michael shrugged, he knew he'd be right. Spending your entire weeks in front of therapy and group therapy sessions did at least tell him a lot about the disorders. "They'd ask really dumb things too, like if you enjoyed killing animals as a child and shit."

"Well, if I did, I'd say that would make me much more likely to be fucked up, wouldn't it?" Ryan raised an eyebrow, wrapping his arms around Michael so that his hands rested at the small of the younger man's back. "Or would it mean that I'm completely normal? Psychology as a profession makes very little sense to me. Freud just seems like he was basing all his theories on himself."

"No, no. You're not fucked up Ryan, no one is fucked up. You're just dealing with trauma, and the fact that you're fascinated by your lack of empathy." Michael faked a stern glare, giggles falling through shortly after. "See, if you kill the bird you're either angry or emotionally unable to sympathize with the bird, if you don't kill the bird however and still want to kill people, well then you're just repaying them for the pain they gave you."

"What if I just don't like birds? Or what if I like birds, but I don't like people? Plus, the people I murder generally aren't bad people, and I don't know them..." Ryan wondered how people could overthink things so much... Sometimes a boat was just a boat, and not a metaphor for society. He felt like he was in English class all over again, except this time they were reading his brain and not Huckleberry Finn.

"Well if you have a hatred for birds enough that you just kill /them/, then that's definitely nearing more schizophrenic tendencies. Do the birds talk to you?" Michael let out a laugh. "And you don't have to know the people, it's the human race you're mad at, so you take it out on random people because it makes you feel like you've relieved some of your own pain." Michael trailed his fingers higher up Ryan's chest, "Or there's the possibility that you just like killing because it helps, just like people do drugs, or drink. But, they can't diagnose that because that's human nature."

"Oh, so I'm not mentally ill, I just have a really poor coping mechanism?" Ryan raised an eyebrow. He didn't feel like that was necessarily correct. He killed people because he enjoyed it; he was a sadist. But beyond that, he hadn't really considered any other motives. "Mm, you should diagnose me, since you know so much. It'll be like a 'get to know you' game in elementary, or speed dating."

Michael rolled his eyes, therapy was dumb and being diagnosed was twice as dumb. He wasn't a therapist and he didn't want to be, though he had to admit analyzing Ryan's brain wasn't the worst thing in the world. He figured the whole thing could be sorta fun, so he rehashed his visits to a therapist. "Alright, Ryan, when did you feel the issue first began?"

"Which issue? The me killing people issue, the antisocial behavior issue..." Ryan raised an eyebrow, settling himself back on the bedspread, before making a face. "No, both of those began with my mother, so let's go with that." He'd long gotten over the secretive stage of his "trauma."

"I see," Michael hummed, intent to capture the true annoying attitude therapists had. "And would you say the..., you killing people, stems entirely from her or do you think there are other factors that play into it?"

"No, no. I wouldn't give her that much credit. I've always been a bit of a sadist but... Would it be wrong to use the term gateway drug in this situation?" He looked up at the man still straddling his hips, keeping his face appropriately controlled.

"Use whatever term you'd like to use, sir, there aren't any right or wrong things here." Michael let out another exaggerated hum, shifting his hips slightly. "So, she triggered the events and they've been progressive since then?" Michael thought he was doing a pretty damned good job at playing therapist.

 

Ryan bit back a grin- Michael was an exceptional therapist. He could almost /see/ the faux leather couch and hear the man scribbling down notes. "Sure, if you call ending up as the 'interrogator' for a wildly successful gang in Los Santos and killing people as part of your job, then yes. It's progressed." Not to mention his sporadic bar outings which usually ended with a dead body needing to be despised of.

Michael let out a slight smile at that before training his face back into a mixed look of apathy and pity, therapists were always way past sympathy. "Hm, well, has there ever been a time when you /haven't/ engaged the desires? What's the longest you've gone without taking someone's life?"

Ryan paused for a moment, furrowing his brow. He had to actually think about that one. "In the past few years? Three and a half months." There hadn't been any gang activity that required his… Services, and it had gotten to the point where he felt like he was about to claw his own skin off. That was when he thought he could sate himself solely through work, but in the end he'd seduced some poor sap at a gay bar and ripped him open in ways that were so damn /satisfying/. He still had the pictures.

Michael arched an eyebrow and tsk'd audibly, tapping at his chin thoughtfully. "I see, and have you ever tried to replace killing with something healthier?" Michael himself didn't actually give a shit whether or not Ryan killed people, but a therapist would definitely care.

"Well, I started cutting up this guy I'm having sex with," Ryan chuckled, "But that only works for awhile… Then the itch returns and it's back to killing people." He briefly wondered it 'healthier' meant healthier for him, or for the people he murdered.

Michael smirked down at him, before nodding. "And how would you say talking about this makes you feel? Good... Or bad, or is it no different than talking about the weather?"

"Weather," Ryan shrugged. He wasn't a very emotional person- it was more like he got twinges of feelings, nothing big or overpowering. Logic generally overpowered everything except the rush he got when killing people.

"And, you don't remorse at all when you kill someone? You don't feel bad for doing it?" Michael questioned, he was still trying to decide between NPD or APD, though he was definitely leaning towards antisocial personality disorder. He let his fingertips massage at the man's stomach gently, tapping his fingers occasionally.

"No, not really," Ryan shrugged again, "I do it because I enjoy it. It has nothing to do with the people- I don't want to harm them, or get revenge; I want to slice them open and…" he made a vague gesture in the air, searching for the right term, "Make them spill their guts, I suppose? But not literally. It's… oddly intimate."

 

Michael tilted his head, nodding slightly. Well, maybe he didn't have APD... Maybe they'd just term it psychopathy and leave it at that. Ryan was difficult to diagnose that was for sure. He wasn't psychotic, Michael knew that, but he'd figured he should ask the questions just in case. "Do you hear things? See things, believe things that aren't true?"

"If I believe them, how would I know they aren't true?" Ryan asked, arching an eyebrow. "In any case, if you're asking about auditory and visual hallucinations, then no. The world that I perceive is quite real."

"And you take your time correct? You manipulate the situation to your control and don't do anything impulsive? Almost like a complicated routine?" Michael murmured, glad he was at least right with the fact that he didn't have psychosis. Though that would've been easier to diagnose, it also would've had him rethinking most of their relationship. No, it seemed that Ryan had the psychopathic disorder with maybe a tinge of APD.

"Yes, generally. It's routine in that, at least, though everyone is different… You have to take your time," Ryan murmured, letting his eyes drift closed. He hadn't been joking when he said it was better than sex. More often than not, he'd jerk off to the memories of his past 'conquests' with the help of a few pictures or the feel of a blade in his hand, rather than some cheap porno.

Michael knew a therapist would've been looking on in disgust- though maybe not, Michael had had some pretty weird therapists... He let out a slight chuckle, running his hands across the man's hip bones and watching him imagine it for a few seconds. "Have you ever been sexual with someone you were planning on killing?" It was a legit question too, there were weird fetishes this could be attested to as well.

Ryan pressed his lips together in a hard, grim line, a far off look in his eyes. "Once… But that was a- different situation. There have been a few, rare times in which I was sexually attracted to the person, but when it progressed to that form of… intimacy, I just let them go. It would be a betrayal, otherwise."

"Hmmm." Michael leaned back slightly, squinting his eyes down at Ryan as if he was trying to analyze every piece of him. Like he could see straight into his brain. A therapist would've brought the conversation back to the person he was having sex with but Michael thought it'd be pretty ridiculous to ask about himself. "And what were you expecting out of this session, Ryan?"

"A fancy diagnosis, and kiss?" Ryan asked, raising an eyebrow. Honestly, he never talked to people about any of this, and he felt like Michael deserved to know, given the fact that they were having sex regularly and he legitimately cared for the man.

"Hm, well I'm diagnosing you with Psychopathy mainly and a very small tinge of Antisocial Personality Disorder. Psychopathy is a personality disorder, just like schizophrenia, or being bipolar, though you have more dark tinges. You're not psychotic, then you'd have to hear shit.. Psychopaths are calculating and good at what they do, whereas psychotics are more impulsive and emotional." Michael shrugged his shoulders matter of factly. "The antisocial personality disorder bits are mainly just to do with your disregard for right and wrong, and repeatedly violating the rights over others by use of intimidation." He smiled before leaning down to kiss at the man's lips gently before pulling back. "Don't go to a therapist though, they'll send you straight to a mental hospital."

"Deal," Ryan chuckled, sitting up and running his hands over the younger man's shoulders and down his back, to rest on his hips. "I don't think I'd do well in captivity. I might kill all the other mental patients."

"It's hard to find things to kill the other patients with, they keep those places fucking spotless of possible dangers. You'd probably just have to go the boring route of stashing your pills and making them overdose." Michael mused, moving his hands up to rest on either side of Ryan's neck. He pressed their lips together again, sliding his tongue along the man's lower lip.

Ryan opened his mouth to the kiss, letting Michael slide his tongue inside before pulling back. "I could always strangle them… Though I'll admit, I'd miss my knives." He snaked one hand up the back of the younger man's shirt, tracing his shoulder blades with a finger.

Michael moved to kiss at the man's neck gently. "I'd miss your knives as well..." He mused, moving his hands from the man's neck to trail across his chest.

"Mm, you would? Why's that?" Ryan teased, tilting his head so that the younger man could kiss his skin more thoroughly.

"Well, I guess I could just get Geoff to cut me up..." Michael chuckled, nipping gently just under the man's ear before sucking softly a bit lower.

"Please," Ryan snorted, "Even if he worked up the nerve, he'd end up butchering you. I suppose I'll just have to stay out of mental hospitals, so you don't end up hurting yourself to appease your fetish." He removed his hands from under Michael's shirt, tugging the edges lightly upwards.

Michael smiled, pulling back to tug off his shirt fully. He balled up the shirt and tossed it uncaringly towards the left before moving back in to kiss at Ryan's lips. "It's more common than you'd think to fuck your therapist, y'know." Michael joked, nipping at the corners of Ryan's mouth.

"Oh?" Ryan raised an eyebrow, ducking in to kiss the crook of Michael's neck. "What do they do; analyze your technique? Does it means something if you spit rather than swallow?"

 

"I don't know, I've never fucked a therapist." Michael shrugged, leaning his head so that Ryan could kiss his neck more. "I'd assume they were just analyzing or trying to fix them maybe, who knows."

"Sex therapy is a lucrative career, I'm told," the older man murmured, smattering kisses across Michael's shoulder before moving to nip at the man's earlobe.

Michael let out a laugh at that, grinding his hips down lightly as Ryan bit at his ear. He moved his hands under Ryan's shirt, rubbing at the skin on his stomach and trying to prompt him to pull his off as well.

Ryan removed the garment, tossing it carelessly to the side and pressing his lips to Michael's, tugging at the man's lower lip with his teeth and soothing the bitten flesh with his tongue. He circled his hips upwards into Michael's, reciprocating every roll with a mimicked movement.

Michael felt shivers run through him, Ryan had some sort of fucking talent at causing him to respond more than he should at the touches. He groaned at the feeling of the man's hips up against his, moving his hands to dance across the now exposed skin. He opened his mouth, pressing his lips back harsher into Ryan's and allowing him to explore his mouth.

Ryan's tongue delved into Michael's mouth, his hands trailing across the scabbed cuts on his chest. They were healing nicely, and the older man didn't want to reopen them again until they'd fully healed. Still, there were plenty other places he could mark with a blade- Michael's back, for example.

Michael smiled against the man's lips as they kissed, nails scraping lightly across Ryan's skin as he moved his hands lower to fiddle at the waistband of the man's pants. He wondered briefly if Ryan would actually tie him up today, or if he'd cut him up at all today, there were so many possibilities.

Ryan moved to mouth at the younger man's jaw, his hand slipping down to pop the button on Michael's pants expertly. Ideas were already forming in his head; he liked having plans. They made him feel so much more in control of the situation, no matter that he was practically under the man's spell when it came to touches like these.

Michael let out a series of breathy whines, hips already raising up to try to meet Ryan's hand as he moved his hands up to tangle in Ryan's hair. "God, I missed you." He breathed out, huffing as he traced his fingers across the nape of the man's neck.

Ryan palmed the man through his boxers, not bothering to tease. He gave Michael a serious, almost somber look as he moved, hips and hand working in tandem. "You did?" Ryan wasn't sure what about him there was to miss, besides the orgasms, and those were something Geoff was more than happy to give the younger man.

"Yeah-yeah, fuck- I really really did." Michael moaned out, moving his hips harsher up to meet Ryan's actions, he didn't doubt that he'd be able to rut up against him till he came, though Ryan was sort of slow working and he doubted he'd really appreciate that.

"What did you miss?" the man questioned, sucking a small hickey into Michael's neck as if he was teasing. He wasn't though, he was genuinely curious, and he felt self-absorbed just for asking. He loved the sounds the younger man was making, though, and he figured a few more wouldn't hurt.

Michael let out a breathy groan, "I missed your advice, and your touches." He murmured out, gripping at the back of his neck. "And your voice, holy fuck- and your eyes, and just you in general." Michael let out another moan.

"I missed you too," Ryan murmured, "Missed the noises you make when I touch you, when I cut into your skin… They're intoxicating." He hated to admit it, even if it was just a soft whisper into the skin of the other man's neck. He removed his hand from Michael's pants, trailing a finger up and down the man's back.

Michael groaned at the words, smile falling unto his face as he pressed a sweet kiss to the man's cheek. He shivered lightly at the touches, whining at the loss of his hand against him, hips bucking subconsciously.

"Mm, like that," Ryan grinned, reaching to ruffle the other man's hair teasingly. "I'm not sure if I like you better moaning or begging. But I suppose I can't have my cake and eat it too." He smirked devilishly.

Michael rolled his eyes, Ryan was just further proving to Michael that he was quite the fan of foreplay. He shuffled his hips slightly, threading his fingers through Ryan's hair.

Ryan chuckled, shifting around on the bed and pushing lightly on Michael's chest so that he fell lengthwise across the foot.

Michael fell backwards, smirking as he watched Ryan carefully, eyeing the man with a raised eyebrow.

Ryan shifted so that he was kneeling between Michael's legs. He leaned down to mouth at the fabric of his boxers, maneuvering the man's pants down a little further.

"Jesus- fuck.." Michael whined out, moving a hand to grab at the man's hair roughly. He slid the other hand to the man's shoulder, fingernails digging lightly in.

 

Ryan chuckled, licking at the younger man's hardening length until the fabric was soaked, clinging to Michael's cock like a second skin. His hands slid over the man's sides gently squeezing his hips as Ryan began to work him over.

Michael let out heated whines, hips wiggling back against the bed in an attempt to not buck up into Ryan's mouth. He tugged harshly at the man's hair, yanking at the strands.

Ryan winced, pulling away to glare at Michael. "I'd rather not go prematurely bald," he teased, reaching up to gently pull Michael's hand out of his hair.

Michael released his hand, moving it to pat at the man's cheek instead. "Shit, sorry." He murmured lightly, staring at him apologetically.

Ryan smirked, sitting up fully. "Mm, well if you want to make it up to me, flip over." He moved away from the man, giving Michael room to lay across the bed proper, rather than across the foot.

Michael's breath hitched slightly, but he scrambled across the bed, laying down on his stomach and glancing back at Ryan with a mischievous grin. "So what are you gonna do?"

Ryan smirked, raising an eyebrow, "Ever tried rimming?" He doubted it, given the only serious relationship Michael had had had been with a selfish bastard.

Michael flushed and shook his head. "N-not really, no..." He murmured biting at his lip. He hated his inexperience sometimes, it was always just sort of fuck and come type deal, lead ups weren't exactly a thing with Jackson and Michael had long since learned to get off on minimal touching, though he supposed the drugs helped.

"I figured," Ryan murmured crawling over the man and kissing his shoulder blade, "You want to?" Not everyone was into the idea of someone's tongue up their ass, but the few of Ryan's partners that had been had treated his tongue as something obscenely sacred. Honestly, when one of them had reciprocated the gesture, he'd understood.

"God, yes." Michael breathed out huskily, eyes lighting up at the fact that Ryan was actually /willing/ to, he honestly couldn't believe that Ryan had suggested it, but he'd learned that the man was more than giving in bed despite his fetishes for blood and screaming. "You don't have to, but..."

"Please," Ryan chuckled, "Have I mentioned the fact that I love the noises you make?" He sat back, shimmying Michael's jeans the rest of the way off and throwing them to the side, the man's boxers followed suit.

Michael smirked, he knew he made good noises, and really it'd stemmed back from Jackson in their early training days, he'd taught him to sound like every touch was driving him wild and now it was completely natural to make noises of approval. He waited patiently, enjoying the way the sheets felt pressed against his clad body more than he'd expected. It was silky and soft and feather-light against him.

Ryan moved backwards, promoting Michael to spread his legs apart further with a knee. When he did, the older man bent down, using his hands to spread Michael's cheeks further apart. The first lick was quick and gentle, just a swipe of his tongue over the man's perineum and up his crack.

Michael gripped his fists into the sheets, body already shuddering from the man's slick tongue against him. He let out a noise, which was nearing more of a cry than a moan. "God damn..." He husked out. He understood now why his friend had raved about the therapist giving him a rim job now, it made since why he'd been talking about it for days and Ryan had barely even licked him yet.

Ryan grinned at the reaction, swiping his tongue over the man's entrance once more. His dick was already twitching in his jeans in response to the feel of Michael's skin and the sound of his moans. He traced his tongue lightly over the outline, deciding to tease him a bit before he dipped inside.

Michael groaned, closing his eyes tightly as he gripped harshly at the sheets. "Holy shit... Holy /fucking/ shit." He breathed out, he shook his head slightly, as if he was trying to distract himself from the overwhelming feeling of Ryan so fucking close to pushing in. He didn't dare beg, or demand, residual fears of Ryan stopping completely and rambling out something about being good.

Ryan couldn’t help but palm himself through the pants he was still wearing, popping the button as he teased Michael's rim. He ground into his palm, pushing his tongue inside the man for a moment.

Michael let out a high pitched whine, hips squirming lightly at the feeling of Ryan's tongue in his hole. "Feels so fucking good, Ryan, /you/ feel so good." He was pretty impressed with his own ability to speak coherently, he felt like he could hear his blood pounding in his ears, and he was sure he was five shades redder than normal.

Ryan couldn't help but groan slightly, rolling his hips harder into his palm. Honestly, part of him wouldn't mind doing this forever, working Michael over with his tongue just to hear the intoxicating sounds that poured from the man. He pulled the muscle back into his mouth sitting up slightly so that he could pop the fingers of the hand not touching himself into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the digits, making sure to coat them thoroughly- he didn't have the patience for lube, and Michael wouldn't mind the slight discomfort.

Michael peeked back over at him when he pulled away, eyes widening slightly at the look of Ryan palming himself and sucking around his fingers. "Jesus... Ryan." He murmured out, reaching a hand down to stroke his own cock at the imagery alone.

Ryan smirked around the fingers, pulling them out of his mouth one by one. He moved his dry hand to pull Michael's cheeks apart, making a discontented noise at the loss of contact. Then he was back to working the younger man man over, teasing his rim a few times, before slipping his tongue back inside.

Michael whined, biting at his lip and flopping his forehead back unto the pillows. He kept a hand on himself to lessen the ache, only stroking occasionally. He ground his hips back towards Ryan's mouth. "Fucking christ...."

Ryan chuckled as much as he could manage with his tongue in Michael's ass, slipping one spit-slicked digit inside the man along with the muscle. The finger could reach farther back, and Ryan slid it in and out, crooking it slightly on each stroke, trying to find the man's prostate.

Michael was all moans and incoherent curses, hips writhing and body shuddering against him when Ryan found the bundle of nerves, the mix of his warm tongue and prodding finger had arousal spiking through him. "fuck...fuck, fuck fuck... God damn Ry, jesus....fucking Christ." He moaned out, biting the pillow to shut himself up.

In that moment, Ryan seriously regretted not having more hands. He wanted to stroke himself- or at least palm himself through his boxers-and take the pillow away from Michael so he would keep making those delicious sounds. Instead, he had to hold the man's ass cheeks apart so that he could continue his ministrations. He settled for pulling back, taking a moment to push down his boxers and give his aching cock a few strokes. "How do you want to do this?" Ryan panted out, "Fuck, I could come just from listening to you…"

"I don't care, fuck me if you want, or keep doing this... Or cut me up or shit- literally whatever you want Ryan." Michael groaned out, pulling his mouth away from the pillow. "I'm game for anything, jesus- everything you do is fucking fantastic." It was true too, he didn't think he'd turn down anything Ryan wanted, the man's voice alone made him want to come.

Ryan considered getting up to retrieve a pocket knife, but decided it was too much effort. Instead he leaned over, fumbling his bedside table drawer open and shuffling through it. He ignored the cool plastic of a bottle of lube, instead pulling out a squishy packet of flavored stuff he'd bought on a whim, along with a condom.

Michael waited patiently for Ryan to get what he needed, entertaining himself by stroking his hand along his cock and moaning lewdly at the contact.

 

Ryan tore open the lube with his teeth, coating his fingers. He returned to his previous position, sliding one finger into Michael, closely followed by his tongue. He made a face for a moment, unused to the fake cherry flavor. "God, this stuff tastes disgusting."

Michael groaned before he let out a laugh at Ryan's words. "Are you seriously using flavored lube? Damn, what don't you have lying around?" He murmured, hand still tugging on himself occasionally.

"What? The other stuff I have is silicon based," Ryan chuckled, slipping in another finger, He scissored them apart slowly, working his tongue in between the digits.

Michael was about to reply, though the only thing that fell from his mouth was a stuttered whine at the intrusion. He moved his other hand into his hair, tugging on his own curls to further his   
pleasure.

Ryan grinned, removing his tongue and licking around the man's entrance as he hooked his fingers. He wondered if Michael could come just from this, without touching himself, but his own dick was achingly hard and he decided he'd rather fuck the younger man into the mattress.

Michael let out a slight whine when the man pulled away, wiggling his hips and grinding down unto his own hand. "Ryan, need you...please? Want you to fuck me. " He moaned out hoarsely, biting his lip and glancing back at Ryan.

Ryan's only response was a breathy growl. He thrust a third finger into Michael, moving them in and out as quickly as he could without hurting the man too much. He worked his tongue in with them for a moment, trying to make the rough stretch as pleasant as possible.

Michael wasn't affected much by the stretch, moans falling from his throat as he bucked up against his hand. The entire thing was arousing to say the least and he spent most of the time wishing Ryan would hurry the fuck up.

Ryan removed his fingers, sitting up and ripping the condom open with his teeth. He rolled it on quickly, slathering the last of the lube over himself and lining himself up with Michael's entrance. This was no time for teasing.

Michael shifted back against him, prompting him to start thrusting. He let out a few moans, anticipation coursing through him as he braced himself on his elbows.

Ryan thrust into the man, groaning at the tight heat of Michael around him. He bit down on the younger man's shoulder, trying to muffle a low moan.

Michael let his forehead fall unto the pillow, crying out softly when Ryan bit his shoulder. His body shuddered, pressing himself back against Ryan.

Ryan stayed like that for a moment, enjoying the feeling of Michael trying to press further back against him, before pulling all the way out and thrusting in again. He set a brutal pace, fucking the younger man into the mattress with a moan. He bit down on Michael's shoulder blade, soothing the spot with a lick of his tongue.

Michael let out few quiet cries at the pace, squirming slightly at the intensity of the man's pace. Michael could already feel the heat building up, and he made sure to keep his strokes on time with Ryan's thrusts. "F-fu-fucking christ, Ryan.." He let out another lewd moan, his free hand gripping tightly at the sheets. "You're so good- so fucking good, holy shit."

Ryan had never been a very vocal lover, and at this point, he was so worked up he could only respond by thrusting harder into the man. The only sounds in the room were the slap of skin on skin and the other man's lewd moans.

Michael's voice peaked into a high pitched whine when Ryan sped up, head falling backwards to blink up at the ceiling as he bucked a few times into his hand and came with a hoarse moan. It was faster than he would've liked to admit, but blamed it entirely on Ryan for getting him so riled up before hand. He fell further unto his elbows, letting out a few panty moans. The brief reminder of the fact that he hadn't asked to come first was ringing in his head, and it left an incredibly bitter taste on his tongue.

Ryan continued his motions, bringing himself closer to the edge with each thrust. He didn't try to be gentle, despite the man's oversensitivity, knowing that the quicker he got off, the less uncomfortable it would be. In any case, Michael was more than a bit of a masochist, and his ass would already ache for days after this.

Michael let his head fall forward onto the pillows, still letting out grunty moans as Ryan continued to pound into him. It definitely didn't hurt as bad as he thought it would've, it mainly just kept his finger tips tingling and his hips wiggling.

Ryan bit into Michael's shoulder once more as he came, hips stuttering through his orgasm. He pulled out, rolling to the side and collapsing. He panted softly, recovering his breath and his wits.

Michael collapsed when he pulled out, heated body falling fully against the silk sheets. His mind was still reeling to say the least and he allowed himself to take a few long moments just burrowing his face in the pillows and breathing.

Ryan let out a breathy puff of laughter, turning his head towards Michael. "I understand why people fuck their therapists now."

 

Michael laughed at that, grin peeking up from where he was rested on the pillows. He blinked his eyes open, moving his hand to rest on Ryan's shoulder. "That was fucking /amazing/."

"Thanks," the older man chuckled, "I've been told I'm good with my tongue." It was a compliment he never got tired of; he took an odd sort of pride in being good at sex.

Michael shuffled closer, peppering kisses across the man's shoulder and up to his neck. "It's true, I mean I don't have anyone to compare you to, but it was fucking incredible."

"Mm, I agree," Ryan murmured, returning the gentle touches with a few of his own. He kissed the tip of Michael's nose, pulling the man closer with one arm, resting his hand on the small of his back. "I was tempted to stay down there, with my tongue up your ass forever. Those sounds would've been worth the taste."

Michael moved to lay slightly across Ryan's chest, trailing his fingertips across his neck. He flushed lightly at Ryan's words, "Wouldn't have been able to last much longer anyway, you were almost too good at it." He let out a yawn, burying his face into Ryan's shoulder.

"Well, it was my pleasure to give you your first rim job," Ryan chuckled, lightly rubbing the younger man's back. Honestly, the sex wasn't what he was used to; for once, he got swept up in the moment, and it was certainly a different experience.

Michael let out a soft contented sigh at the rubbing of his back. His mind was flashing with memories of Jackson rubbing his back in a similar fashion, and he had to admit it was incredibly relaxing despite the fact that it should've unsettled him.

Ryan couldn't help but smile softly; Michael was always so sleepy after sex, and it wasn't almost adorable the way he could drift off into dreams. The older man couldn't resist cuddling him a little closer, one arm pinned underneath him as his blunt nails gently scratched Michael's back.

Michael let out another yawn, eyes starting to blink closed as Ryan scratched at his back. He tiptoed his fingers across Ryan's chest and hummed lightly.

Ryan kissed him on the forehead, pulling away and sitting up so that he could take off the now-soiled condom. He tied the end, standing up to throw it away.

Michael felt the panic start to rise when he felt Ryan pull away, his mind flashing back to when Jackson left. It was just like that and Michael had no clue how long Ryan would leave him. He opened his eyes and sat up, chest starting to rise and fall and he tried to keep his breathing steady. "Are you leaving?" He questioned carefully, trying not to sound too panicky. The entire situation felt too similar to what had happened with Jackson and he tried to bite back the tears that were threatening to fall, God, he was such a fucking baby.

 

Ryan tossed the latex into his waste basket, turning around and furrowing his brow at Michael. "No, of course not. What's-" Oh. He caught a glimpse of the tears brimming in the younger man's eyes, and it clicked into place. He walked back to the bed, climbing in and pulling the covers up over his and Michael's waists. He reached out for the man: an invitation.

Michael immediately clutched onto him, winding his arms tightly around him, almost as if he was terrified to let him go. His tears spilt over and he moved farther into the crook of Ryan's neck. "Don't leave- please don't go."

"It's okay; I'm not leaving," Ryan soothed, stroking the man's curls gently. "I was just throwing away the condom. I'm not going anywhere..."

Michael only gripped at him tighter, an audible sob falling from his throat. "I'm sorry," he really wasn't all too sure why he was apologizing, but he just felt the desperate need to say it, to be as good as he could be.

Ryan gripped the man's face firmly, forcing Michael to look at him. "Hey, it's me. It's Ryan. You have nothing to be sorry for; you didn't do anything wrong."

Michael gave him a hesitant nod, an almost too quick reaction as he gripped at the man's chest. He let out a sniffle, eyes running across Ryan's face as if trying to make sure he was real. "Yo-you're not leaving?" He questioned quietly, brown eyes looking into his blue ones.

"No, I'm not leaving," the older man confirmed, sliding on a mask of calm reassurance, "I won't leave you, Michael." He wondered what he'd done to set this off, or if simply getting up was enough.

Michael nodded again, taking a hand from Ryan's chest to wipe at his eyes before letting himself fall back against Ryan, sniffling slightly and letting out a few shaky breaths. He'd been doing so good today with memories and flashbacks, be hated when it broke and Michael was once thrown back to a world of panicked childish insecurities.

"What can I do to help?" Ryan murmured. Sometimes it was better not to touch people when they were like this, but knowing Michael, he'd want some sort of security, and he often found it in touch.

Michael really didn't want to feel any more vulnerable than he already did, but never the less he sucked it up to ask for the comfort. "Can-can you just rub my back?" He murmured almost silently, biting at his knuckle a second later.

Ryan nodded, sitting up and motioning for Michael to do the same. He nudged the man's shoulders, prompting him to face the other way so that Ryan could gently rub his shoulders. He worked with calm, smooth motions, slowly massaging away the tension.

Michael followed the directions easily, sighing at the feeling of Ryan's ministrations. He wasn't rough at all, quite the contrast from earlier which Michael was more than thankful for, the gentle touches were just as nice as the rough ones. He moved a.hand.back to grab at Ryan's thigh lightly, almost as if he was making sure he was still there. His eyes were starting to droop and he honestly wouldn't be shocked if he fell asleep and flopped onto the bed.

Ryan was tempted to hook his chin over the younger man's shoulder, pressing their bodies together, but that would've meant stopping his motions. Instead, he gently kissed Michael's shoulders, his lips following his fingers.

Michael let out a shaky sort of yawn, an almost sob ridden intake of breath as his eyelids fluttered and he fought the sleep that was threatening to overtake him. "Thank you." He murmured, still enjoying the kisses and rubs immensely.

"No problem," Ryan smiled softly. He wondered if Michael would ever thank /him/ rather than the ghost of Jackson. Even in death, the bastard managed to torment and control the man.

Michael felt beyond exhausted, his mental states were fighting each other and he'd felt as if he'd experienced every emotion in the span of five minutes. He let his body slump forward, legs curling up to his chest and arms cuddling at the blankets. It was a sort of awkward position, and Michael's head wasn't resting on any pillows and was instead lying on only blankets and mattress. It wasn't shocking to him, there were multitudes of times he'd fallen asleep in various places with Jackson, one time he'd simply slept under his kitchen table, only being picked back up when Jackson had gotten bored with the TV.

Ryan gently sat the younger man up, coaxing him to lay back against the pillows with soft hands and soothing words. He laid down beside Michael, slotting their bodies together like spoons, pressing a kiss into the crook of the man's neck.

Michael's body obeyed sleepily, content to grab at the pillows with his hands and press back into Ryan's warm body. He let out another small yawn, before finally caving over to the darkness of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, I hope you all enjoyed this very lengthy, Ryan/Michael chapter. It's one of my favorites.  
> As usual, comments are always appreciated, thanks for the support!


	38. Chapter 38

Ryan let his eyes drift closed, but his mind wandered. He couldn't sleep with a thousand thoughts and memories buzzing around his head. Victoria, his mother, Jackson, a few of his favorite victims (Larry, Sandra, Devin, Mark, Elizabeth), and Michael. How had he gotten so attached to the man? Was it simply the violence? He got so easily attached to people who knew his little secrets, and yet still tolerated him. It's why he stayed away from them, partly. The other part that 9/10 times they weren't worth bothering with.

Michael's dreams were vivid and harsh, cruel memories winding together with worse fantasies caused his body to twitch uncomfortably after just a few hours of sleep. He was back at the orphanage, searching the halls for Jackson because he'd gotten in trouble for something. He stumbled past the kids, catching his face in the mirror and grimacing at himself. He was younger, eyes red and puffy, though he knew it wasn't from crying. He looked frail, to say the least, almost disgustingly skinny. He cringed and moved forward, thankful when he finally found the door to Jackson's office. "I'm sorry." He murmured automatically, pausing his steps when he noticed Ryan and Geoff bound to the walls, the man's office taking a darker turn and looking more like a torture chamber suddenly. Jackson was resting his ankles on his desk, arms crossed over his chest and staring over at Michael with a smirk. "Don't hurt them, don- please... Please, I'll do whatever, daddy..." He tried, doe eyes going wide and watery. Dream Jackson only tutted and picked up a knife. "Please!" Michael was screaming now and he wasn't sure it was only in the dream. "Please don't daddy, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, don't- Please!" Michael cringed when Jackson trailed the knife across Geoff's gagged face. "They don't want you, Michael..."

Ryan was too lost in thought to notice Michael's distress. He only tightened his hold on the man, stroking his hair absently as his thoughts skipped back to Victoria.

"Okay, okay. They don't want me. Fine, let them go. I'll stay with you daddy, please...please." Michael sobbed out, shaking his head furiously as he tried to plead with the man. Jackson tsk'd and slid his knife along Geoff's cheek. "I'm doing what's best for you, baby boy." He mused quietly, giving Michael a look that reminded him to stay quiet. Michael tried to walk forward, stopping only when Jackson raised his hand like an invisible force. Michael.could only obey, falling to his knees and sobbing. "Let them go! Please, please, please. Daddy, stop, it's my fault, not theirs." Jackson rolled his eyes and turned back to him. "It is, but little boys don't know any better." Michael let out another cry at that, avoiding his eyes from Geoff's blood.

Ryan skimmed a hand down Michael's arm absently. With his temper and foul mouth, he was like a more spitfire version of Victoria. She'd been calm and easygoing most days, but her anger rivaled Michael's when it came. She's been a gorgeous masochist, with hair you could bury yourself in and she'd been the first person Ryan had ever told about his parents. And he'd been so much younger... So easily fallen in love with her bell-like laughter and the way she screamed. It had been like a chorus all on its own.

 

Michael looked up in time to see Jackson slide the blade across Geoff's neck, his mouth falling open in a harsh cry. "No! No, no.. No, no, no. Please, no..." Michael sobbed out, shaking his head furiously fast as he tried to run forward to grasp at Geoff's slumped over body. Jackson shoved him back harshly, not even glancing back to Michael when he hit the floor. Not that it mattered to Michael, he was all hysterical cries and begging words. "Don't, no more. Stop, please... "

But then again... Victoria hadn't been what he'd expected. She hadn't been content with their relationship; she'd used him, manipulated him until he'd done what she wanted: killed her. He should have seen the signs, with the way she downed pills like candy rather than recreational drugs, and burned herself on the stove so badly, she couldn't have done it on accident. She'd always asked him to "cut a little deeper, baby" but he'd been careful. But she'd somehow convinced him to go to that warehouse and work her over until there wasn't any saving her- she'd threatened to tell the paramedics he'd kidnapped her if he didn't let her die. So he had.

Michael didn't want to see him kill Ryan, so he closed his eyes and continued to scream. "Stop! Just stop!" He shouted out, furiously digging his nails into the wood flooring. "Please, please, daddy, don't do this. I don't want you to do it, stop!" Michael nearly screamed when he felt a palm across his mouth. He peeked his eyes open, wincing at Ryan's slumped body. He continued his shouting, despite it being muffled by Jackson’s hand. He kicked his feet and thrashed around, desperate to get Jackson off of him.

Ryan was jerked out of his revelry by a thrashing Michael. He quickly released his hold on the man, sitting up and shaking him slightly. "Michael. Michael, wake up."

Michael fought against Ryan's hands on his shoulders, not fully having a hold of reality yet. He could still see Jackson above him and he was still screaming, only it was fully audible now. "Stop, stop!" His voice quieted down after, turning to light murmurs as his thrashing slowed and he slumped. "Daddy, daddy please- they didn't- my fault.."

"It's not your fault, ssh..." Ryan murmured, trying to calm the man down from his manic state. He winced at being called 'Daddy,' but knew it wasn't him Michael was speaking to. "It's okay; it was just a dream."

Michael let out a few sobs, eyes blinking up at Ryan as he fell into the reality of waking up. He felt the tears spilling over as he noted that Ryan was alive. He sat up, wrapping his arms around Ryan. "You're alive- you're still here.." He whimpered out, tightening his grip on the man.

"Yeah, I'm here..." the older man murmured, "I'm not going anywhere. Takes a lot more than a nightmare to kill me." He rubbed Michael's back gently.

Michael let out another sob at that, moving a hand to grip onto the man's neck. "He-he killed you and Geoff..." Michael hiccupped, "I- couldn't stop him.."

 

"It was only a dream..." Ryan soothed, "He's dead. I killed him, I should know..." He pressed his lips to Michael's forehead, letting them linger there.

Michael took in a few shaky breaths, his body slumping against Ryan completely. He could feel the sweat on his already sticky body, hair matted down and messy.

Ryan continued to make soothing, shushing sounds, stroking the man's back and letting his fingers tangle in his curly hair. He really did hope Michael found a way to deal with this soon, because his night terrors scared even Ryan.

Michael felt his body calming down way before his mind did, thankful for Ryan's touches and soothing sounds. He pulled back, rubbing at his tear filled eyes and trying to scrub the wetness from his cheeks.

Ryan cupped the man's face in his palm, searching for any signs of further panic. "How are you doing?"

"I'm okay now." Michael murmured, blinking up at him. His mind was still reeling in the details of the dream, replaying moments and visuals from the experience but that was to be expected. "Did I wake you up?"

"No, I was already awake," Ryan reassured him, pressing a quick kiss to the man's forehead. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Michael bit at his lip, shrugging his shoulders. "I-I was just in trouble for something, so I was walking to his office...and you and Geoff were there." He tried to mask the way his breath hitched as he moved to grab at Ryan's arms for comfort. "He was killing you two, and and I couldn't fucking move- I couldn't help, or do anything...H-h-he told me it was my fault, that-that I didn't know any better."

"You aren't a child, Michael," Ryan murmured, "What he did to you- those weren't childish things. You're an adult, I'm an adult, and so is Geoff. We make our own choices."

Michael nodded, he knew Ryan was right; he did. He knew that he was an adult and his life was his life, and he didn't /have/ to act like a child anymore. He understood it, just like he understood Jackson was gone and couldn't hurt him anymore. But, his mind was still keeping a part of the previous Michael, the one that Jackson had created, and he wasn't so sure he was ready to let that part go. He pressed a kiss to Ryan's cheek before moving his head back to rest comfortably on the man's shoulder.

 

Ryan continued to stroke his hair for a few moments, before pulling back. "I'm going to make us some dinner, and you can call Ray or Geoff if you want to, alright?" He wanted to give Michael some privacy, if he needed it.

Michael nodded, letting Ryan pull back. He needed a shower anyway, and he really should probably call Geoff or check his messages at the very least. He checked for his pants across the floor, standing up to grab at the pocket of his pants for his phone. He grimaced slightly at the sting in his ass, pressing the unlock button on his phone and searching for a missed call or message.

Ryan pulled on a pair of boxers from the stack of clean clothes thrown haphazardly on his dresser, deciding that was enough clothing since he was probably only going to be heating something up.

There were a few text messages on Michael's phone, all from Geoff except one, which was from Gavin. Geoff's messages all consisted of something along the lines of "Where are you? Are you okay? Are you with Ryan? I miss you..." While Gavin's said "Text Geoff back. The bastard is afraid you're ignoring him."

Michael grimaced, he really should've told Geoff he was going to stay late... He pressed the call button as he grabbed his boxers off the ground and walked towards the bathroom. He felt sick and sweaty, and he had an absolute torturous headache.

"Hey!" Geoff's voice rang through the phone's speakers in a way that made Michael's head ache, "Where are you?"

Michael grimaced again, opening the door to the bathroom and setting his boxes on the counter before running a hand across his face. "Ryan's." He mumbled hoarsely, "Sorry, I should've called you." He glanced at himself in the mirror, squinting his eyes at his red face and tear stains.

"No, it's fine," the older man muttered, "I'm just kind of paranoid lately. Are you going to come back home for dinner?"

"Uh, Ryan's making dinner, I think." Michael murmured, "I'm kind of still recovering from a nightmare, so I'll see how I feel after dinner." Michael wasn't entirely sure what he wanted to do yet, though he honestly wouldn't mind a walk through the cold air back to Geoff's. "Hey though, I need new clothes.. will you go shopping with me tomorrow?"

"Yeah sure," Geoff agreed, "Gavin needs some stuff too, and the British prick refuses to go." He was well aware that Michael didn't want to go back to house and see the... Aftermath.

Michael let out a laugh at that. "He can't be bothered, Geoff." He mused easily, turning on the sink and running a hand under the cold water before splashing it lightly onto his face, making sure to avoid getting his phone wet as he did.

 

"Yeah, well, he'll be 'bothered' as dicks when I buy him some decently fitting clothing instead of the tight-ass Euro bullshit," Geoff tried to sound disgruntled, but failed and ended up chuckling.

Michael laughed again, it was true Gavin would gripe at Geoff for hours about what he picked out. "How's your hangover?" He mused, smirk falling unto his face.

"Oh, fuck off," Geoff snorted, "You got drunk too, buddy. And, for your information, it's mostly gone. Thank God for black market prescription painkillers."

"I only had two beers." Michael muttered back with a roll of his eyes, he'd only been sporting a light buzz. "But that's good, I'm glad." He moved to open the closet in the bathroom, pulling out a towel and setting it over the shower for easier reach.

"So... how're things going with Ryan?" Geoff asked, voice betraying the waggle of his eyebrows. "Whatcha guys doing?"

"They're good, we ate lunch and then we watched a movie and slept." Michael mused, purposely leaving out the fact that they fucked, though he was pretty sure that was obvious. "I'm about to take a shower, and then we're going to eat dinner."

"Dude," Geoff said, sounding supremely unimpressed, "You can say you guys fucked. I'm being a mature adult about sharing you with another person; I can handle it. Plus, y'know... There is a small, not-jealous part of me that finds it hot." The embarrassment was evident in his voice.

Michael's eyes widened and he flushed slightly, those were words he honestly didn't expect to come out of Geoff's mouth. Though, he was immensely glad this wasn't turning into a fucked up love triangle where the two of them fight over him constantly, and it was working more as if they were a balanced group. "You-you, what?" He stammered out, furrowing his brows.

"Tiny! Small part," Geoff insisted, "Not like, Ryan... I still kind of hate the guy's guts, but... The you part." Michael could practically see him scratching the back of his neck and looking away.

"That doesn't make sense though," Michael mused, furrowing his eyebrows again. "If you hate the guy, you wouldn't even want to think about us together, at all- like you'd avoid it like the plague. But you don't, and you actually ask about us, and you're curious. Which means that you don't hate Ryan nearly as much as you want to." Michael analyzed, moving his index finger in circles as he spoke, as if putting the points together and trying to solve a puzzle.

"Stop fucking psychoanalyzing me," Geoff grumbled. The man was making him think about things he definitely did not want to think about. Like fucking Ryan. The idea made him supremely uncomfortable, and more in a "I will never get this image out of my head" way than a "turned on" way.

"Then stop being hypocritical and I won't have to." Michael hummed, chuckling lightly. He still felt mostly confused, but shrugged it off because it was clear that Geoff didn't want to talk about it or think about it.

"I'm not a hypocrite!" Geoff insisted, his voice cracking slightly, "He's a psychopath, and I don't like thinking about him hurting you! It's just- objectively, he's got those fucking /arms/ and- he's objectively attractive, okay?" He was babbling, he knew, and he could feel his cheeks heating up.

"Okay, okay. Sorry." Michael murmured, he was a little taken aback, Geoff wasn't simply shouting, it was an entirely different tone that made Michael feel bad for bringing it up at all. It was very clear to him that Geoff didn't understand his own feelings about it and it was best just to not joke around the subject.

"Yeah, well," Geoff muttered, unsure of how to continue the conversation. He didn't know how to traverse this odd, love-triangle of a relationship.

Michael rolled his eyes, Geoff could be incredibly sensitive sometimes. "Alright, I'm gonna jump in the shower now. I'll text you if I decide to come back over tonight." He muttered, leaning into the shower and turning it on, waiting for a goodbye from Geoff.

"Yeah, okay," Geoff nodded, "Fucking have a good time, alright?"

Michael grimaced, unsure of whether Geoff was being sarcastic or not. "Bye." He murmured, ending the call and setting his phone down on the counter. He stepped into the shower, letting the heat wash over him as he grabbed the soap.

Geoff set his phone down with a sigh, burying his head in his hands. How the fuck was he supposed to feel about this? He felt like an asshole, and that was about all he was sure of. The rest was a jumble, and he needed a fucking drink to sort it all out.

Michael scrubbed the dry come off of his stomach, before lathering the rest of his body up with suds. After he was sure he was washed down enough, he stepped into the shower and let the water wash away the sweat. He grabbed some of Ryan's shampoo and scrubbed it roughly into his hair before rinsing that as well.

Geoff walked to the kitchen in a trance, grabbing his bottle of cinnamon whiskey and sitting at the counter. He took a swig, but the pleasant taste only served to remind him of Michael. And Ryan. /Fuck/ Ryan. The man's cool stare and dark sense of humor gave Geoff the creeps, but for some reason Michael seemed to like him.

Michael stood there for a few minutes, just letting the water cascade across him. He didn't understand why Geoff had to make everything so fucking complex, nothing had been going wrong and he just had to make something wrong. It was annoying as fuck and maybe Michael was just still angry about the other night, but never the less sometimes Geoff pissed him off. His head hurt significantly more than it had before the conversation and he felt like he honestly might pass out. So, he shut the water off and stepped out, running the towel mindlessly across himself to try to dry off.

Honestly, Geoff didn't see the appeal in Ryan besides the physical. He had an obsession with death and pain that would have made a mortician cringe, and he hardly ever spoke. When he did, he ended up saying something darkly untoward, carrying conversations into unstable ground. He wasn't a bad boy, or the strong and silent stoic; he was just /Ryan/. So what if Geoff sometimes laughed at the things he said, reveling in the disrespect for normal boundaries? And he was quick and efficient, no one could deny that. He was good at his job, and he enjoyed it... But it made Geoff's stomach turn.

Michael pulled on his boxers, tugging his towel across his shoulders to catch the water droplets from his hair. He observed himself in the mirror, pinpointing every flaw he could manage to see and cringing at every bit of him he hated. He wished he had chosen to take a cold shower instead of the too-hot one he had taken, his body felt warm and his mind was spinning. He let himself sit down on the cold tiles, laying his head back against the wall and trying to calm his aching head.

Was that why it was so hard to admit harboring any affections for the man? Geoff had seen plenty of people tortured in his day; he'd been through the process himself a few times. He didn't understand how someone could enjoy taking life in that manner- brutally and painfully. But... Not everyone was like him, he knew that. So why was it so god damn hard to accept this?

Michael cringed when he heard Jackson's voice ring in his head. /he still thinks you're a whore./ Michael shook his head, fingertips moving to grip at his curls as he tried to block out the oncoming hallucination. /they only stay cause you're a good fuck baby boy, only because I trained you to be a good little whore for them./ Michael winced, hands curling into fists. "Shut up."

Geoff took another swig of whiskey and decided that he was drunk enough to excuse sitting on the counter. He hoisted himself up laying lengthwise across it on his stomach, feet dangling off the free end. He tried to take another drink of the precious, but the bottle slipped from his fingers, spilling across the counter before Geoff could catch it. When he did, he set the mostly empty bottle to the side, deciding to just face plant into the alcohol that was seeping into his clothes. Everything smelled like cinnamon and it made him want to cry, for some reason. Why was everything so complicated?

Michael stood up sharply, ignoring the dizzy spell that washed over him as he pushed back the vivid figure in front of him. /Michael, baby boy, it's time to admit you're alone/ Michael stumbled into Ryan's room, shaking his head furiously and trying to fight off the words. /Sweetheart, it's okay- they just don't love you-/ The voice finally quieted down when Michael grabbed a decorative vase from Ryan's wardrobe and threw it against the wall the figure was standing in front of. "Shut up!" He yelled out, flinching at the sound of glass hitting the wall.

Ryan looked up from the styrofoam bowl whose contents he'd been pouring onto a plate, disturbed by the sound. He set down the container of noodles, quickly walking to his bedroom to find the source of the sound.

Michael tried to steady his breathing, moving forward to hurriedly pick up the glass. He'd only broken a few things when he lived with Jackson and it'd only ended with him being locked up for an entire weekend. He grimaced when his hand got split on one of the pieces in his rush to try to toss them in the trash.

"Michael?" Ryan called out, opening the door to his room. "Are you alright?"

Michael glanced up at him, startled by the noise and his hands tightened around the handful of shards. "I'm sorry- I.." He murmured, moving to drop the shards into the trash, not wanting to spill blood on Ryan's flooring. "I.."

Ryan's eyebrows shot up when he saw Michael's bleeding hands. He was dripping crimson into the older man's waste basket, the color visible through the translucent plastic of the receptacle. "What happened?"

Michael bit at his lip, deciding that the possibility of getting in trouble for being caught in a lie was always worse than just telling the truth. "I got mad... I threw your vase against the wall- I'm sorry, I-" He stammered out apologetically.

Ryan nodded, placing a gentle hand on Michael's shoulder and leading him to the bathroom. He sat the man down on the toilet seat, grabbing a roll of bandages and beginning to wrap them around the man's bleeding hands.

Michael watched Ryan wrap his hands, brows still frowning at the fact that Ryan wasn't mad. Jackson definitely would've given him a slap on the face now, at the very least, but Ryan was actually caring for him and he wasn't entirely sure why. "I saw him-... so I threw the vase, I-I shouldn't have, I'm sorry." He continued to apologize, biting at his lip harshly.

"I know," Ryan murmured, standing up from his crouched positions and kissing the top of Michael's head. "I wasn't a big fan of it, anyways."

Michael brushed his fingers over the fresh bandages on his hands, eyes closing when Ryan kissed his forehead. He hated the fact that he /wanted/ to act like a child right now, just force himself into the man's arms and slump against him, content to do whatever Ryan wanted of him. Though he knew that wasn't what Ryan wanted, so he sat there and forced back the tears threatening to fall.

"Come on," Ryan offered the younger man his hand, "I made noodles. By which I mean I poured boiling water over them and added salt."

Michael took his hand quietly, letting him lead him towards the kitchen and therefore the food. He wasn't exactly starving, but he wasn't going to turn down the option of food.

Ryan grabbed the plates from where he'd set them on the counter, setting one down in front of Michael and handing him a fork. It was just a cup of ramen noodles with dehydrated peas, carrots, and meat in it, but it was food.

Michael dug in quickly, it wasn't as if he was picky when it came to food and to be honest he was just glad for the distraction from the silence. He was still trying to decide whether or not he wanted to head back to Geoff's or not, or if he'd rather just crash here and go back tomorrow.

Ryan twirled his noodles artfully around his fork, making little effort to start a conversation; he wasn't good at small talk. He'd end up saying something, offend Michael somehow... He was good in a crisis, sometimes, and he tortured people like he was born with a knife in his hand, but this... Aftermath and awkwardness were not things he handled well.

"So, I called Geoff." Michael murmured, around a mouthful of food that he was currently chomping on. "I think he's pissed at me though." He murmured carefully, shrugging his shoulders matter of factly.

"Why's that?" Ryan raised an eyebrow. He doubted it was anything serious, given that Geoff was quick to forgive Michael of any trespass, but he didn't want to be the one getting the younger man into trouble.

Michael made a face, "I called him hypocritical, and analyzed him." Michael leant back further in his chair. "He was just being sensitive." He muttered, letting out a huff of annoyance.

Ryan chuckled, taking another bite of noodles. "He can't admit his own flaws. I think that's part of why he hates me, because I can... Or perhaps it's just the psychopathy."

"He's got NPD, I guarantee you." Michael rolled his eyes, setting down his fork and resting his chin in his hand. It was one of Michael's least favorite disorders, and though he didn't necessarily believe they were true, Geoff fit that one to a T.

"Where exactly did you learn all this stuff anyways?" Ryan asked, "Maybe I should have picked a therapist with a fancy degree from Harvard hanging on their wall, but the sex was too good to pass up." He winked, the effect nearly ruined when he stuffed another forkful of pasta into his mouth a moment later.

 

Michael let out a laugh, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. "I took a few Psychology classes in school, but most of it came from when the orphanage- they had a few built in therapist rooms- I spent a hell of a lot of time in them and this one woman adored me and would loan me her books and shit."

"For me, it was alway drama," Ryan mused, "As much as I loved computers, if you handed me a script, I'd be buried in it for days." He furrowed his brow slightly- he never talked about his past, but here he was, having a casual conversation about his high school experience.

"Really? You were a theatre kid?" Michael arched an eyebrow, he couldn't see it for some reason, maybe it was all the killing Ryan did now. "What'd you look like in high school?" He mused, tilting his head at him. "Were you popular?"

"Fuck, no," Ryan snorted. "I was the scary kid who showed up with bruises on his face every other day, but not even the juvenile delinquent crowd wanted me around. I read comics, watched anime, and did theatre. Of course, the theatre kids thought I did hard drugs and got in fights every weekend, so mostly I was on my own."

Michael nodded, that made more sense. "Was it just your mom that hit you, or was it your dad too?" He hated to admit how quick it was to roll off the tongue, he forgot sometimes that these weren't casual conversations. He could remember all the times a new kid would arrive to the orphanage and force his way to Michael's table, they always had the same series of conversations about exactly what fucked up shit they'd gone through.

"No," Ryan shook his head, "Just my mother. She hit my Dad more than she hit me, though. Once he had to go to the hospital because she'd gotten one of her fake nails stuck in his skin when she scratched him." He wiggled his fingers, imitating the flirtatious wave of the stereotypical, vapid girl who wore press-on nails.

"Yikes." Michael winced, not at the actual abuse, but more of the vision of fake nails slicing into skin. It was almost sick; his lack of sympathy, but Michael had seen some of the worst situations walk through the doors of the orphanage and it was easier to not be affected by it.

Ryan shrugged, "People try to get you out of the habit of saying you're lucky- because it's not something that's supposed to happen to anyone- but things could have been a lot worse. And at least I got to be the one that ended it. There was closure there, in a lot of ways."

"Yeah." He nodded, he could understand that. "Did you like your father?" He knew he should probably shut up now, stop prompting for information, but he was curious.

 

Ryan raised an eyebrow, "Decently enough. I liked him more as an acquaintance than a father figure. I wasn't too broken up about it when he died- not that I wasn't sad. It was just... Impersonal."

Michael nodded again, deciding to quiet down after that. He moved to stand up, setting his plate in the sink and moving back to wind his arms around Ryan's shoulders. He pressed a light kiss to the man's neck, humming lightly as he massaged his hands along the man's shoulders.

Ryan finished off his noodles, relaxing into the massage. Once again, he was reminded of Victoria and her magical fingers that could smooth all his troubles away. It was off putting how similar- and different- they were, now that he realized it.

Michael pressed a few kisses to his cheek as he worked his fingers deeper into the man's shoulder blades. "Thank you for dinner." He murmured, smiling at him brightly. Ryan was letting him in to so much of his past, and it was amazing how nice it felt to be trusted.

"I put boiling water in a cup of noodles," Ryan snorted, "But I'm glad you enjoyed it. The secret ingredient is my never ending sarcasm." He sighed, tilting his head back to look at Michael as the man worked the kinks out of his shoulders.

Michael rolled his eyes before leaning down to press a kiss to the man's lips, despite the awkward angle. He continued rubbing at his shoulders, pulling back and tilting his head at him. "I asked you questions, now you have fair game to ask me." He mused.

Ryan raised an eyebrow, "No holds barred? I don't want to trigger you or anything..." He wanted to know the man's limits, if Michael even knew them himself.

Michael stared at him for a few seconds before moving to sit on his lap. "I lived in an orphanage, Ry, I'm used to answering questions." Michael murmured, trailing his hands across the man's chest. It was the truth too, when he'd first told Ray most of it his first reaction after was to ask if he had any questions. It was oddly habitual, and the hiding shit was all a new development.

Ryan hummed, thinking for a moment. He still wanted to tread carefully around Michael, but he figured he'd start with stuff that actually applied to him. "So, do you have a daddy kink, or was it just him?"

Michael shrugged his shoulders. "He definitely pushed it, I think it's nice sometimes, I still like to be rocked and shit. But I don't think I could stand it anymore, and before I didn't exactly have a say in it. So." Michael murmured, furrowing his brows as if trying to figure out what he said meant.

Ryan nodded, wrapping his arms around the man. He had to admit, he liked it when Michael got cuddly, so it was something he could deal with. "How did it start?" He'd never really gotten the whole story.

"The Jackson thing?" Michael questioned, Ryan was vague and he wasn't sure where he wanted him to start, Michael had too many stories.

"Yes. I know he was the head of the orphanage, but how did the..." He waved his hand, searching for the right word, "Relationship start."

"Hm, well he was always sort of there when I was growing up. Through the first time I was given back to the office, to the time I became a hormonal teenager." Michael frowned as if trying to remember. "Uh, things were always sort of familyish between us, I wasn't a great kid and when kids were in trouble we went to his office, so he knew me a lot. One of the times I got returned I'd cried on the floor in his office for hours- anyway, he was just kind and there. The first time things changed, I was like fifteen? There were gay porn mags in my drawer, not mine, my friends, he blamed it on me. So I was sent in, and that was when he first started to act different. He brought me to his house that night, for a "talk" of sorts, but nothing else happened except discussing sex and sexuality and a sort of mutual porn watching session. Skip to a few years later, I was almost eighteen and terrified to be off on my own so he offered his place, and started advancing, and that's when it started."

Ryan nodded. The /normality/ of it made him cringe. It was just around the edges, like the bruises his mother left just beneath the collar of his shirt- if you weren't looking, you'd miss them. "So, the first time- you were 17?"

"Yeah, well. It started mostly just blow jobs under his table while he interviewed people and shit. Then he'd jerk me off after, he had issues with me not being /legal/ yet. He couldn't wait though, so he brought me to his house, wrote me off of a bunch of documents and told me I was staying with him. He fucked me, and introduced the kink to me- it sort of just happened to be honest..."

"Slimy bastard," Ryan muttered under his breath. He took vicious pleasure in the memory of the way Jackson's guts felt in his hand. "Was it always non consensual? Did you ever initiate it?" It made sense that he would have. Teenagers had libido in plenty, but you didn't always want what the other person was giving.

"Uh, if I was high I was all about it. And even beyond that, the fucking honestly wasn't the worst part at all. I turned him down pretty recently after he started, I wasn't feeling good and I was tired, I sort of just wanted to sleep. So he grabbed my wallet and shoved it in in my pocket and threw me out, told me to come back when I learned to be grateful." Michael slid his hands across Ryan's shoulders lightly.

Ryan made a disgusted sound, "I am so glad I killed that bastard. I know that's probably not what you want to hear, but it was one of the most satisfying experiences of my life. Some people just don't /deserve/ to be alive."

 

"He wasn't /all/ bad, he had his moments... " Michael murmured quietly, moving his chin to hook onto Ryan's shoulder. "I get it though, I'm glad he's gone- I just miss him sometimes."

Ryan nodded, running his hand through Michael's hair. "I get that. I /really/ do." The dull ache of his parents deaths had long since faded, but Victoria kept resurfacing in his mind with a stab of guilt, loathing, and longing.

Michael let out a sigh at the comforting touch content to just sit on the man's lap. It was almost odd, how Ryan understood so much, and that he didn't question when he'd admitted to liking the certain aspects of the fucked up relationship he'd had.

Ryan sighed softly, carding his fingers through the younger man's hair. He felt so selfish, imagining Victoria's glorious mane between his fingers. He shouldn't want that, shouldn't want /her/. But he did. He missed her like Michael missed Jackson, perhaps more.

Michael pulled back to look at him, "Have you ever been in love?" He questioned hesitantly, tilting his head as he wondered about it.

"Once," Ryan murmured, and his face closed like a door, "At least I thought that's what it was." His hand tightened in Michael's curls momentarily, before he noticed and pulled away with a muttered apology.

"It's okay." Michael answered quickly, he stared at him for a moment trying to gauge his reactions. "You don't have to talk about it, I was just wondering." He moved his hands to rub along Ryan's neck gently.

"If you really want to know, I'll tell you," Ryan murmured, not looking at Michael. "We can play 20 questions. It's not yes or no, but that's all you get."

"Hey." Michael moved his hands to Ryan's face, forcing him to meet his eyes. "I don't need to know, okay? You don't have to tell me anything." He pressed a gentle kiss to the man's lips before pulling back and kissing his cheek.

Ryan snaked his arms around to gently grip at the base of Michael's neck, holding him close as he pressed their foreheads together. "No. I should- Given that we're... Doing whatever it is we're doing, I should talk about it. I need to talk about it to someone and I- I don't have a Ray." He cringed when his voice hitched. Fuck emotions.

Michael nodded, moving his hands back down to Ryan's shoulders, but otherwise not pulling back at all. "Okay, girl or guy?" He murmured curiously.

 

"Girl." Ryan began breathing, his eyes closed tightly as he tried to banish his emotions with rhythmic breaths.

"How long were you two together?" Michael asked, glancing over Ryan's facial features. It hurt his heart if he was being honest.

"A year? Maybe two. It wasn't really... Contained. Everything is a blur, except for a few memories." He could recall the exact shape of the burn on her thigh, the way the dark flesh had flushed a broken open. The way the skin peeled off. She'd let him help, and he'd rubbed off the top layer with reverent touches.

"Was she a masochist?" Michael questioned, he couldn't imagine she wouldn't be, it'd be hard to hold up a relationship with Ryan if you weren't

"Yes," Ryan's lips twitched up in a small smile, though his eyes remained closed. "I've never found anyone else whose screams sound like singing."

Michael felt a slight tinge of something, jealousy maybe? He wasn't sure. "So what happened?" He questioned, they sounded good together from what he heard.

Ryan's smile dropped away. "She died." He didn't know how he could explain it; he'd never had to before. He hadn't thought about what to say or how to say it.

Michael furrowed his brows, "How'd she die?" He ran a hand through the man's hair, trying to comfort him the best he could.

Ryan let out a hollow laugh that sounded more haunted than amused. "I killed her. I didn't mean to... And /God/ I should have seen it coming."

Michael's mouth fell open slightly before he closed it quickly. He stroked his hands through Ryan's hair. Just randomly killing someone he loved or thought he loved didn't really seem like Ryan. "What happened?" He questioned, "I know you didn't just lose control.."

"Victoria could sweet talk you off a cliff," the older man murmured, "She wanted me to go to a warehouse, act out a 'realistic torture scene.' I- I went too far, she just kept pushing... And when I said I was going to call an ambulance..." He bit down on his lower lip, angry lines splitting his face.

"So... She wanted you to kill her?" Michael pieced together, rubbing his thumb across Ryan's chin lightly. "That's sort of bitchy." Actually, Michael thought that was more than bitchy, if she'd wanted to die she should've just done it herself- not set up an entire routine just so she didn't have to actually kill herself.

 

"She liked theatrics," Ryan said dispassionately, "I was too busy arguing with her- fuck, she said she was going to tell the paramedics I kidnapped her- and then she just... She faded out." Ryan's face fell, the memory sweeping over him.

Michael let out a soft sigh, not feeling like he had any of the right words to say. He trailed his fingertips along Ryan's neck. He didn't pester for more info, just tried to let Ryan know he was still here with touches.

Ryan continued, his voice flat. "I was angry. I didn't know if the entire relationship had just been some suicidal ploy. I wanted revenge; I wanted to do something. So I strung her body up from the rafters with the rope I'd brought, wrote a quick suicide note on the wall in blood, and left."

Michael furrowed his brows, it sounded like she'd used him and that never felt very good. He pressed a kiss to Ryan's temple gently, he didn't think anything he said would help take away the pain. He almost said he was sorry that happened to him, almost apologized for the pain but that wouldn't make a difference and it sounded too formal.

"Next thing I know, I'm the primary suspect in a murder case," Ryan laughed hollowly, "So I skipped town, changed my name, and wandered. I got new credentials, fudged some records, and that's how I got into gang business."

Michael nodded, carding his fingers through the man's hair. "So you miss her, then?" He already knew the answer, but sometimes admitting it helped heal the pain.

"Yes." Ryan's said without emotion. He'd been used, he knew, but he didn't know to what extent. If she'd planned it that way from the beginning, if she even liked him. He'd treated her like something holy, and she'd treated him like... Well, like a person, an individual. And that had been deliciously new.

"I'm sorry- I know that's not going to help, but that really sucks and I wish you didn't have to deal with that." He sighed out, pressing a light kiss to the man's lips. "It was really selfish of her to do that." He spoke quietly, making sure his fingers continued their touches.

Ryan opened his eyes, letting his fingers tangle in the curls near the base of Michael's neck. "You still have 13 more questions," he smiled sadly, "It wasn't all bad, obviously. Just- What do you want to know?"

"Did you live together?" Michael questioned, offering a smile in return to his attempt. He was glad he was at least making eye contact with him now, it made it easier to hold a conversation.

"Yes. She had an apartment off campus, and it was much better than staying in my shitty dorm room."

 

"So you were in college then? Where'd you meet?" Michael raised an eyebrow, obviously okay with offering less-heavy questions.

"Yep. In Liberty City. I was at one of the smaller colleges, working on my acting skills so that I could get into one of the big league schools. Then I realized that I couldn't stand being around theater people forever, so I switched my major to computer programming."

"What? They don't have a class for killing people? No assassination and you, courses?" Michael joked easily, cracking a smile. "So, you guys just met and fucked, or did you become friends first?" Honestly, Michael didn't really understand how most relationships formed.

"Contrary to what schools would have you believe, college does not offer everything," Ryan chuckled. "No, we were friends first... Well, not quite. We hovered in the 'not-quite-dating' zone for a few months." They'd gotten coffee, and she'd dragged him to a music festival. That's where he'd first kissed her, with the smell of pot smoke in his nose and the sweet taste of her on his tongue.

"What'd she look like?" Michael questioned, running his hands along the man's shoulders gently before sliding down his arms and feeling around his biceps. They were idle touches, an attempt at soothing him the best he could.

"Think African goddess mixed with 70s hippy, but minus the flowing clothes," Ryan grinned, "She was almost as tall as me, but she had this /hair/ that went on for miles. You could bury yourself in it... Once, she got one of her friends to braid it, but it didn't work, they came undone after a few days, I told her the universe couldn't bare to be deprived of it."

Michael hummed, as if imagining the two of them together. He had to admit, he felt sort of jealous of her, even though the feeling felt different in the pit of Michael's stomach. He had spent his entire life having people have better lives, be better, than him- he'd long since stopped caring. Maybe it was the way he was talking about her, he wasn't too positive but it reminded him of when Jackson would bring someone home when Michael wasn't satisfying him enough, or when he was being punished. "She sounds pretty." He murmured, thankful for the way his face didn't show off any of his feelings.

"Gorgeous," Ryan confirmed, "Though I suppose people always seen better in memories. You forget how many times you took her to the hospital because she'd decided to slit her wrists, or sit on top of the stove. Now that I think about it, she was just finding the most pleasant way to kill herself, I suspect."

Michael made a contemplative face, letting out a soft sigh. He couldn't imagine what it was like to walk in and witness something that extreme. "Is there a pleasant way to kill yourself?"

 

"There is if you're a masochist," Ryan sighed. "Apparently it's dying of blood loss after your boyfriend's eaten you out after slicing you to ribbons in an abandoned warehouse." He grimaced.

Michael bit at his lower lip, glancing down before looking up and placing a few kisses towards the corner of the man's eyebrow, lips trailing down to his cheek and the corner of his lips. It was honestly the only thing he felt like he could do at this point.

Ryan gave him a sad smile, leaning forwards to press a soft kiss to Michael's lips. "You remind me of her, in some ways..."

Michael tilted his head at him curiously. "I do?"

"Same temper. You're all sunshine, until someone makes you mad and then you blow up. A few of the sounds you make are similar, even if she was more vocal."

Michael hummed lightly, leaning forward to hook his chin over the man's shoulder. 'I'm sorry you lost her, Ryan." He murmured quietly.

"I didn't lose her... She's not an object that I misplaced... I killed her. She's dead," Ryan corrected, wrapping his arms more firmly around the other man. His voice was empty of malice, as if he was correcting a child.

"Okay. I'm sorry you killed her then." He changed, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. He ran his hands along the man's back, rubbing in comforting circles.

"Me too," Ryan murmured. He slid one hand around Michael's neck, cupping the man's face. "Thank you... For listening." He leaned in to capture Michael's lips in a soft, lingering kiss, as if it would drain away his pain.

"You're welcome." Michael smiled gently, pulling away. He knew it stung to rehash old experiences and feelings, but he hoped it'd help to tell someone something he'd been holding in for a long time. He pressed another kiss back to his lips.

They stayed like that for a for a few minutes. Ryan basked in the contact. He'd forgotten how good skin-on-skin felt, just how much he enjoyed kissing. But then Michael had come along and reminded him viciously, with his heated body and love of cuddling. "Are you going to go back to Geoff's?" the older man murmured.

"Not unless you want me to, I'll go back in the morning." He placed his hands on Ryan's face softly. "If you want to be alone though, I get it." He left the decision completely up to Ryan, not sure exactly how Ryan's coping mechanisms worked.

 

"No- whatever you want." The fact that Michael reminded him of Victoria was both helpful, and agonizing. He loved the small touches, and if the younger man left, he'd probably jerk off to old photographs, and that just wasn't healthy.

"I'll stay then." Michael offered, kissing at the corners of Ryan's mouth. He was oddly thankful for this conversation, it took his mind off his own problems. "What do you want to do?"

"Mm, something mindless," Ryan decided, kissing Michael's forehead. "I need a distraction."

"Video games?" Michael suggested, "Do you want a lap dance?" He joked afterwards.

Ryan snorted, breaking into a grin. "No thanks, you don't have the coordination to be a stripper. Video games are fine."

"You obviously have not seen me in my rave days." Michael snickered, sliding off of Ryan's lap and tugging him to his feet as well before leading them both over to the couch. He powered on the man's xbox and searched through the games. "What do you want to play?"

"Portal 2 co-op?" Ryan asked, raising an eyebrow. He'd never had someone to play it with before.

"Sure." Michael nodded, he stuck the disk into the xbox before grabbing two remotes and moving back to sit on the couch. He handed Ryan one and immediately cuddled up against him.

They spent a pleasurable few hours solving puzzles and dropping their "science points" into the negative by high-fiving their bots every time they solved a particularly difficult puzzle. It was 2am by the time they finished all of them, and Ryan was in a much better mood.

Michael rubbed at his forehead with a yawn, stretching his arms up over his head. Before he moved to slump against Ryan, to be honest he didn't know how Ryan went without sleep. He was exhausted and it wasn't even late. "That game is too smart for me." He murmured.

"Don't let GLaDOS here you say that," Ryan chuckled, "It'll boost her already inflated ego." The older man set down his controller, wrapping his arms around Michael.

Michael laughed at that, cuddling in closer to Ryan and running his hands along the man's chest. He blinked his eyes blearily.

"You look tired," Ryan teased, tilting the man's face up to look at him. "Are you even going to make it to the bed?"

Michael let out a sleepy yawn and moved to rub his eyes. "Couch is fine." He muffled out, letting his hands fall away from his eyes and his body to slump against Ryan's.

 

"For you, maybe," the older man grumbled. He maneuvered Michael so that he was straddling his lap, grabbing the man's thighs as he did so. He stood, careful to lean back slightly so that Michael wouldn't fall. "Come on; wrap your arms around my neck."

Michael obliged easily, arms wrapping tightly around Ryan's neck, and resting his head on the man's shoulder. He honestly didn't think he'd ever get sick of Ryan holding him like this, he let his eyes droop closed quickly.

Ryan carried Michael to his room, dropping the man into bed and climbing in next to them. There was still a bit of semen staining the sheets, and he made a mental note to toss them in the wash in the morning.

Michael rested an arm across Ryan's chest, snuggling over into his neck and winding a leg across Ryan's. He gave into the confines of sleep quickly, soothed by the sound of Ryan's breathing and his warm embrace.

Ryan slowly extracted one of his arms from the tangle, grabbing his phone from the bedside table. He quickly set an alarm for 10, knowing that Geoff would probably panic unless he heard from Michael by noon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw, Ryan and Michael sharing and bonding, how sweet. 
> 
> I'm gonna give you guys a heads up for a second here. While we still have around 500 pages of words left, there's not much more in the main arch. Given that this was an rp, we did end it suddenly to switch to something else. That being said, we leave all of our RPs open ended, and so we likely will at some point go back. 
> 
> There's also a new arch coming out soon which is pretty much Michael's origin stories. While, I know you all seem to unanimously hate Jackson, me and Cat always have the funnest time writing his and Michael's interactions. I already editted a ton of it, so it's getting put up.
> 
> Thank you, as always, for your support and love! Hope you enjoyed, let me know what you think.


	39. Chapter 39

Michael had managed to have a pretty restless sleep, his dreams not nearly as brutal as they were before and it left him feeling more relaxed than he had been in days. He was practically on top of Ryan when the annoying jingle woke him up and he let out an audible groan.

Ryan's eyes blinked open, and he made a face; there was no going back to sleep now. "Ugh... I need coffee," he grumbled, but only pulled Michael closer.

Michael pressed a kiss to the man's neck before burying himself further into his embrace. He didn't want to get up, he honestly would prefer laying in bed all day. "Why the hell did you even set an alarm?" Michael mumbled.

"So Geoff doesn't get mad at you. Say thank you," Ryan grumbled, fumbling for his phone and turning off the alarm.

"Thank you." Michael murmured, sleepy daze ruining his perceptions and he grimaced a few moments later. He yawned sleepily before sitting up slightly.

Ryan made a disappointed sound, "It's ten... We don't have to go anywhere for at least an hour and a half." He grabbed Michael around the waist, trying to the pull the man back into his embrace.

Michael obeyed willingly, slumping back into his embrace and nuzzling his nose into the man's neck. "Okay." He murmured, hand moving down to rest on Ryan's stomach.

"I'll miss you when you're at Geoff's," Ryan murmured, burying his face in Michael's hair. He liked being alone, but it didn't mean he wasn't lonely sometimes. Or a lot of the time, more recently.

"I'll be back." Michael never really liked this part, they always seemed so sad when he left and he desperately wished there was a way for him to be with both of them. "I have to make sure he didn't drown in a bath of whiskey, remember?" He chuckled lightly,

"Mm, he seems like he'd do that," Ryan murmured into the man's hair, "I feel like I'm part of a custody battle. And Geoff and I are a really passive-aggressive divorced couple fighting over who the kid likes more." But you can't always make kids choose between parents, so he'd deal.

Michael let out a slight laugh at that, he bit back a joke about Geoff having a crush on Ryan. Deciding that that wasn't exactly appropriate. "Two christmas's?" He joked instead, biting at Ryan's neck softly.

"Mm, if Christmas is a metaphor for fucking you, then yes," Ryan chuckled, tilting his head so that Michael could more easily access his neck.

 

"Well, it was actually just about Christmas- I expect presents, y'know." He laughed out, but continued biting and sucking across Ryan's neck lazily.

"Ugh, so high maintenance," Ryan teased. Michael's pleasant bites were simultaneously arousing him and putting him back to sleep. It figures that the one day he actually felt like sleeping 'til noon, he had to get up.

Michael scoffed at that, moving to straddle Ryan's hips so that the position wasn't so entirely uncomfortable, he bit harshly just above Ryan's collar bone, smirking at the red splotch forming before kissing it lightly.

"Mm," Ryan hummed stretching his arms above his head so that they brushed against the headboard. "On a scale of 1 to 10, how mad would Geoff be if I returned you as damaged goods?" He wanted to grab a pocket knife from his bedside table and carve lazy, early morning patterns into Michael's back.

"He wants my stomach clear for body shots, but other than that.." He murmured, he was sure Geoff would probably still be a /little/ annoyed, but he couldn't really find time to care. He moved to sit up, grinning down at Ryan.

"I'll do your back then," the older man grinned, sitting up so that Michael was straddling his lap. He kissed the man gently, winding his fingers into Michael's hair and tugging it slightly.

Michael opened his mouth, deepening the kiss between them before pulling away. "Where do you want me?" He murmured, curious as to whether Ryan wanted to get blood on his sheets or not.

"Just lay on your stomach," Ryan motioned to the space beside him. He was one of the key members in a gang; he could afford to buy new sheets. When Michael moved off of him, he scooted closer to the nightstand, opening the drawer and pulling out the small blade inside.

Michael laid down flat on his stomach, grabbing a pillow and placing it in front of him before crossing his arms and resting his face down on top of them. The angle still let him see behind him and he could feel the adrenaline rising deliciously.

Ryan straddled the man's hips, leaning down to press a kiss to the man's shoulder blade. He flicked open the pocket knife, tracing the cool metals across Michael's skin for a moment, debating where to start.

Michael felt the shudder of excitement run through him at Ryan's weight and the cold blade. He shook off another sleepy yawn, knowing very well in a few moments he wouldn't be tired at all.

 

The first cut Ryan made traced the outline of Michael's shoulder blade. He pulled the knife slowly through the man's skin, leaving a line of red, split skin in the blade's wake. The slice was shallow, but blood began to well from it almost immediately, drops slowly slipping down the younger man's side and staining Ryan's sheets.

Michael let out a hiss, squinting his eyes at the delicious stinging of the slice. He wiggled his hips, almost trying to press back into the blade as his muscles naturally tensed.

Ryan made a mirror image of the cut on Michael's left side, using the man's spine as a line of bilateral symmetry. He cut into the man again, marking the safe just below the cut on his right shoulder with a longer, curling slice.

A cry stumbled out of Michael's mouth, head tilting back to cry out as he felt the blood drip down across his back. He wasn't used to having his back sliced and it gave off an incredibly different feeling than chest wounds, but still just as good, if not better.

Ryan grinned; Michael's screams may not have sounds like music, but when he cried out like that, it didn't matter. It was better, somehow: raw and unadulterated. He made a series of smaller marks below the one he's just made, even going as far as to cut triangle shape near the beginning of the slice, before moving to replicate his pattern.

Michael let out a few breathy whines, before moving to bite unto his arm to stop the flow of noises. The patterns felt so amazing when they were carved on and it made Michael want to jump up and look in the mirror as quickly as he could.

Ryan made a quick slash near the top of Michael's neck, marking the meaty flesh above his shoulder blade. He took his time with the mirroring slice, making it just a little deeper, if only to hear the sounds Michael made when he moved slowly.

Michael pulled his mouth away from his arm to cry out, the high-pitched, almost scream, turning down into a low moan as Ryan took his time with the cuts. He couldn't help rutting down into the man's mattress.

Ryan chuckled lowly, leaning down to mouth at the red line. He swiped his tongue across it, relishing the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, before he latched onto the skin, sucking the flesh as if he were trying to give the other man a hickey.

"Fuck.." Michael moaned out, body responding to the heat of Ryan's mouth and the sucking. The feeling caused shivers to run across his spine, immensely enjoying the pain that came with Ryan's mouth.

Ryan pulled away, tracing his finger over the cut for a moment. Then he was back to slicing, drawing a line directly down Michael's spine and carefully cutting a triangle into the skin just below his neck. The look of the entire pattern was tribalistic and harsh, and Ryan extended a few of the lines carefully, until they intersected with the one down the younger man's spine. The effect was something akin to geometric wings.

Michael was all whimpers as he worked, bandaged hands clutching tightly to his arms as the edges of his eyes pricked with tears. It felt amazingly painful and sharp, and he loved every minute of it. The sick fuck that he was relished in every slight tinge of the blade. "God, Ryan.." He murmured.

The older man flicked the blade closed, setting it aside. He leaned in, tracing his tongue over the shoulder wound he hadn't already lavished. "I'm done..."

Michael pushed him off, kissing him on' the cheek before running to the bathroom and turning his back toward the mirror, arching his neck to see the prints. They were stunning, and he loved them, they made him look cooler than he was, that was for sure.

Ryan laughed, adjusting himself through his boxers and getting up to strip the sheets. He gathered them up, dumping them into the washing machine in the hall as he passed. As an afterthought, he grabbed a dirty washcloth from the machine, using it to clean up the blood that had dripped onto the hardwood floor when Michael had passed.

Michael walked back into the bedroom after he'd sufficiently gotten his fill of staring at them. He smirked at Ryan's crouching body, walking forward and bending down to wind his arms around the man's neck. "I love them. Thank you." He murmured into the man's ear, grin broad on his face.

"You're welcome," Ryan chuckled, "Now get back in the bathroom so I can clean them." Geoff would probably murder him if the younger man got an infection. He swatted at Michael with the washcloth, prompting him to move.

Michael rolled his eyes but stood up anyway, making his way back to the bathroom so that he could wait for Ryan's help. He wouldn't be able to bandage these even if he wasn't a lazy asshole.

Ryan tossed the now-bloody rag back in the wash, making his way into the bathroom. He grabbed another washcloth, wetting it under the sink and motioning for Michael to sit sideways on the toilet. He began to clean the wounds gently, but it probably stung anyways.

Michael winced when he started to clean his wounds, but was otherwise unaffected. "I think this one is my favorite style." Michael commented easily, smiling up at Ryan.

"Fewer veins," Ryan shrugged, "I don't have to be as careful. Plus, you haven't seen my plans for your chest." At some point, he was really going to have to sketch the pattern out, if for no other reason than the fact that he didn't want to forget it. He kissed the crook of Michael's neck, pulling away to grab a roll of bandages and some disinfectant.

 

"Wait," Michael murmured, pushing the disinfectant and bandages back unto the counter. He turned and pulled Ryan closer by the waistband of his boxers. He smirked up at him before pressing a kiss on his lower stomach. He moved his hands to rest on Ryan's hips.

Ryan raised an eyebrow, hands instinctively moving to tangle in Michael's hair.

Michael mouthed at Ryan's stomach, leaning forward so that Ryan could see the slices along his back as he licked a strip lower. He palmed his hand against Ryan's cock before tugging the man's boxers lower.

Ryan grinned, one hand making its way out of Michael's hair to trace along the cuts. "Mm, I get to cut you up /and/ a blow job? To what do I owe this honor?"

Michael smiled up at him sweetly, shrugging his shoulders. "I feel generous today." He stroked a hand across Ryan's cock before pressing a kiss to the head, tongue flicking out to lick the slit before wrapping his mouth around his dick and humming lightly.

Ryan took a sharp breath in, hand tightening in Michael's hair reflexively. He let out the breath slowly, trying to resist the urge to thrust into the warm heat. He was already buzzing from the experience of slicing the other man open and the way he /moaned/... Fuck.

Michael relaxed his throat around him, hollowing his cheeks and tilting his head to give him a better angle. He pulled off before letting him slide back into his throat. He pressed a tongue against him and sucked harshly, before using his hands to move Ryan's hips forward, prompting him to thrust if he wanted.

Ryan let out a low groan, his eyelids fluttering. Half of him wanted to make Michael hoarse, if for no other reason than to upset Geoff; the idea made him laugh. The other half won out for the moment, and he made only short, aborted movements so as not to make the other man gag, choke, or uncomfortable.

Michael smiled around him, swallowing instinctively, but otherwise letting Ryan do most of the work, only sucking or flicking out his tongue occasionally.

"Fuck- I want to fuck your mouth," Ryan murmured, rocking forwards and backwards with remarkable self control. He almost lost it when Michael did that /thing/ with his tongue that made his toes tingle, and he couldn't hold back a low moan.

Michael pulled off for a moment. "You can, I don't mind." Michael smirked up at him before sliding his cock back in his mouth and relaxing his throat again, tilting his head to make it easier on his throat and waiting patiently for him to move.

 

Ryan decided that, yes, he was going to make Michael hoarse and if he had more time, he would have fucked him until he couldn't walk straight. There was something intoxicating about having a lasting effect on someone. The hand still tracing idly over Michael's cuts returned to his hair, gripping harshly at the strands as Ryan began to thrust rhythmically into the other man's mouth, unable to bite back a curse.

Michael gagged slightly when he reached the back of his throat, only sputtering a tiny bit before he fell into the rhythm. He couldn't help moving the heel of his hand down to his own dick, pressing down against himself as he continued to swallow reflexively.

Ryan continued his movements, letting out a low "Fuck, /Michael.../" when the man fluttered his tongue along the underside of his cock. He pulled back, moaning softly, "I'm gonna come.. Move if you- /Fuck/."

Michael kept a firm grasp on Ryan's hips, not moving from the position and instead giving Ryan a doe eyed expression. He swallowed the man's cum down, only making a slight face at the taste. He sucked a little more, making sure to milk his orgasm completely before pulling back and wiping his face with the back of his arm.

Ryan let out a shaky laugh, bending down to kiss Michael. He could taste his own cum on the man's lips, and he made a face. "You're amazing at that."

Michael smiled up at him, it felt nice to make Ryan happy; actually it felt really nice. "Thanks " he mused, not wanting to say that he had practice.

"Want me to do you?" Ryan raised an eyebrow, tucking himself back in his boxers. The bandages could wait, if only for a moment.

Michael shrugged. "If you want, or you can just jerk me off. I don't care." He murmured, taking his hand away from his boxers.

Ryan rolled his eyes, giving the man an exasperated look. "I've never heard someone so unenthusiastic about getting a blow job. I could always eat you out again," he waggled his eyebrows. Honestly, it seemed like it was going to be Ryan's go-to at this point, given the way the younger man had reacted the first time.

"Sorry. I just dont want you to feel like you have to repay me." Michael muttered, but his eyes lit up at the idea, Ryan's tongue was amazing and he'd sort of just assumed it was a special occasion type of deal.

 

"It's not repaying you; I like making you feel good," the older man leaned down to give Michael a gentle kiss, before pulling him to his feet. "Up against the wall- I'm going to get a towel for my knees."

Michael shivered at the command, before moving over to lean against the wall. He tugged off his boxers before winding a hand around his cock and giving himself a few strokes.

Ryan chuckled, grabbing a towel from the rack and neatly folding it. He tossed the cloth on the floor behind Michael, wrapping his arms around the younger man's waist and slowly sliding to his knees, pressing kisses along the cuts he'd made in Michael's skin as he went. They were beginning to leak blood again, and he couldn't resist running his tongue over a few of them as he settled his hands on the man's hips as settled onto the towel.

Michael kept his hands locked on the wall to brace himself, adjusting his position to spread his legs more. He groaned when Ryan mouthed at the cuts, excited shudders already running through him. He felt vulnerable, he had to admit, but he couldn't be bothered to care when Ryan was so willing to do these things for him.

Ryan put his hands on the man's ass, giving it a quick, playful squeeze before he spread Michael open. He admired the way his hands so easily molded the man's flesh, and he couldn't resist squeezing harder, creating red marks on the skin. He placed a small kiss to the small of Michael's back, before swiping his tongue from his perineum up to the top of his crack.

Michael moaned loudly at the way Ryan's hands felt on him and the way his warm tongue slid across his ass. "F-fucking hell." He murmured, pressing his forehead against the wall and shifting his hips. He contemplated jerking himself off, but decided to savor the time and try to last a little bit longer.

Ryan chuckled darkly, darting his tongue out to tease the man's rim. He always preferred going slow, especially when it was Michael. His ass was so /sensitive/, or he was just sensitive in general. Either way, he enjoyed it immensely.

Michael let out a high-pitched whimper, body trying to wiggle back into his mouth as best he could. "Uhg, why're you so good at this?" He murmured out, hands gripping tighter on the wall.

"Because I enjoy torturing you," Ryan replied teasingly, biting into the back of Michael's thigh and sucking a dark hickey there, "Also, I've had lots of practice…" He swiped his tongue over the younger man's hole once more, dipping in just slightly.

Michael let out a moan, moving one hand down to give his cock a few strokes. He couldn't resist bucking into his hand as Ryan worked. He cried out quietly when Ryan dipped his tongue in.

 

Ryan pulled away, popping two fingers of his right hand into his mouth and coating them with saliva. Carefully, he began to work his index finger into the man, licking around the digit to let it slide in easier, lavishing Michael with careful licks.

Michael was all whines as Ryan worked, his hand picking up it's pace slightly as he ground back towards Ryan. "Fu-fuck, I can't last much longer." Michael muttered out, gritting his teeth in concentration.

Ryan only chuckled, pumping his finger slowly in and out of the man, his tongue joining it a moment later. He hooked his finger, twisting his arm up so that he could get a better angle as he tried to find Michael's prostate.

Michael couldn't help falling over the edge when Ryan's fingers brushed against his prostate. He bucked into his hand as he spilled over, loud moans leaving his mouth as he did so. "Jesus, Ryan.." He murmured, slumping forward against the wall.

Ryan drew his tongue back into his mouth, wiping his fingers on his pants and standing, wrapping his arms around Michael. He pressed a kiss to the man's shoulder, before biting down and sucking a small hickey just above one of the cuts. "You got cum on my wall," he murmured teasingly.

"You're fault." Michael sighed out, leaning back into Ryan's chest. He wound his dry hand back into Ryan's hair, eyes fluttering closed as he enjoyed the aftershocks.

"Mm, you're damn right it is," Ryan chuckled, kissing the man's cheek, "Now let me bandage you up." He didn't move, however, not wanting to drop Michael onto the floor.

Michael nodded before moving over to the sink and washing his hands and using a washcloth to clean his cock. He yawned lightly before tugging his boxers up and moving back to sit on the toilet so that Ryan could bandage his back. "Geoff's gonna be annoyed that he has to take care of more bandages."

"What, he doesn't like my work?" Ryan asked in mock surprise, washing his hands and grabbing the disinfectant. He sprayed it over Michael's back with a murmured apology; he knew it stung from personal experience.

"I don't know, the weird part is I think he might." He muttered out, gritting his teeth at the stinging spray, though he was getting sort of used to it by now. "I don't understand him."

Ryan raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean?" He grabbed the bandages from the counter, peeling the sticky end off the roll and placing it and the start of the cut on Michael's left shoulder. He pressed it down along the wound, bending in and using his teeth to rip off the piece when he'd covered it completely.

"Like, I don't know it's weird- I probably shouldn't even tell you this- but he told me on the phone yesterday that he actually found it hot. Meaning, us together- and then, a while ago he told me he thought the cuts were pretty." Michael shrugged, cringing at the hoarseness in his voice.

Ryan's eyebrows shot up, but he continued bandaging Michael, sticking the cloth to each cut as he considered the new information. The first thing that came to mind was that he /really/ hoped that Geoff wasn't sexually attracted to him, given the fact that his affections for the man only went as far as 'He knows how to plan a heist, pays me, and has an addictive laugh.' He put the last bandage over the triangle below Michael's neck, moving on to the cuts on his right side.

Michael observed the man's silence, unsure of what it meant, he really should've just kept his mouth shut but he'd never been great at keeping things quiet. "I wish we could leave them unbandaged." Michael mused, changing the subject.

Ryan leaned in to press a kiss to the top of his head, "Mm, you'd get an infection, but otherwise I'd parade you around the city, shirtless." Perhaps it was a bit narcissistic, but he really enjoyed the way his work looked decorating Michael's back.

Michael smiled at that, hand moving up to stroke at Ryan's cheek; he thought Ryan had a right to be proud of the wounds, he himself would've never been able to slice so precisely.

"So… Geoff is attracted to me?" Ryan raised an eyebrow at the younger man, "Or does he just get turned on by the idea of you fucking other people?" That didn't seem quite right; Geoff was the jealous type.

"I don't know, I told him it didn't make sense and all, right?" Michael made a face of confusion. "Like, he said he thought the /me/ part was hot, but that he still wasn't a fan of you. So I told him it didn't make sense, at all- and he got pissed, but I honestly don't even think he knows what he thinks."

"Mm," Ryan hummed discontentedly, pulling away to continue bandaging them man. "Well, I hope he figures it out, for all of our sakes." He didn't want to be trapped in a never ending custody battle. He could deal with fucking Geoff if it meant Michael would be happy… And by deal with, he meant that he'd manage to get the other man off, even if his own dick wasn't interested.

"Yeah, me too." Michael murmured, shifting slightly as he waited for Ryan to finish bandaging him. He'd been sitting in the same spot for a while now and he was beginning to get antsy, this was definitely not his favorite part of being cut up.

Ryan finished his work, kissing the back of Michael's neck, "There, you're all patched up." He grabbed the bloody washcloth from the counter, rinsing it off and cleaning the younger man's cum off his wall and before tossing the rag aside. He moved over to the sink, washing his hands and grabbing his toothbrush; his mouth tasted like ass.

"Thank you." Michael murmured, patting Ryan's ass as he walked back into the man's bedroom and grabbing his pants off the floor. He searched for his phone, sending a quick text to Geoff that said he'd be there soon. He searched for his shirt, finally finding it tossed over on Ryan's dresser.

Ryan brushed his teeth quickly, rinsing his mouth in the sink and heading back to his bedroom. "You want me to walk you over?"

Michael glanced at him, "I can walk a few miles, Ry." He smiled, "Besides, do you really want to deal with Geoff?" He chuckled, sliding his shirt over his head and moving forward to press a kiss to the man's fresh mint mouth.

"Mm, point," Ryan murmured, "And, if nothing else, I'll see you tomorrow for the heist." He was looking forward to a good, old fashioned shoot out with whatever cops came their way. As much as he loved his knives, there was something satisfying about putting a bullet in someone's skull.

"Yep!" Michael chimed, pressing another quick peck to the man's lips before moving to the living room to retrieve his shoes. He found them next to the couch and slid them over his feet, tying the laces before making his way over to the door. He turned back to Ryan once more, winding an arm around his neck and pressing a gentle kiss against his lips. "If you need me, you can call, okay?"

Ryan gave him a half smile, "I know, but thank you." He pulled the man in for a deeper kiss, before pulling away and giving him a swat on the ass. "Give Geoff a kiss from me," he winked.

Michael let out a laugh at that, rolling his eyes playfully before opening the man's door and stalking out of the man's building with a 'see you!' He jogged down the steps; figuring he could use the exercise no matter how bad it hurt his ass. He offered a wave to the old woman sitting in front of the desk and went out the front doors, heading in the direction of Geoff's house.

Geoff awoke with a massive headache and little recollection of what happened after he'd face planted in whiskey. He vaguely remembered throwing things, crying, and- oh. He might have tried to kiss Gavin at one point. He wasn't sure whether or not he'd succeeded, but he remembered that he'd been angry, that he'd wanted to make Michael jealous. He cringed when he recalled bits and pieces of what he'd said- "C'mon, Gav. We can just make out, nothing has to happen. Or I can blow you.... We can fuck, I'll make it so good, Gav."

Michael continued his walk towards Geoff's, only stopping when he saw a drug dealer in an alley. He furrowed his brow, checking in his wallet for some money before making his way over. He almost felt bad about buying some ecstasy pills, checking to see what level they were and grimacing when he said they were 200mg, that was high even for him. He paid him quickly. "Hey, aren't you part of a gang?" The guy questioned, handing Michael the bag with a tilt of his head. 

"No, you never saw me." Michael muttered back, slipping the pills into his back pocket and finishing is walk. He’d only keep them for emergencies, that was all. He arrived on Geoff's doorstep five minutes later, knocking gently on the door, he'd never gotten a message back from Geoff but he figured he wouldn't mind if he just showed up.

Geoff was in the middle of gulping down a handful of painkillers when he heard the knock. /Fuck/. He had no idea where Gavin was, or if they'd done anything- didn't he have a girlfriend? He felt another stab of guilt pulse through him, in time with the throbbing of his head. He stumbled towards the door, noting his whiskey stained shirt and boxer shorts- fuckin' elegant as dicks.

Michael raised his eyebrows when Geoff opened the door, eyes sliding across the man's form. "I- uh, texted you." He murmured carefully, shifting back and forth on the heels of his feet. Why the fuck did Geoff suddenly look homeless? "You look like shit."

"Yeah, well you sound like shit," Geoff retorted weakly, motioning him into the apartment and shutting the door behind him. He stumbled over to the couch, collapsing there and scrubbing his face with a hand.

Michael was used to immediate embraces when it came to Geoff, and the tiny amount of hostility made him feel uneasy. He slipped off his shoes before taking in the disarray of Geoff's apartment. He moved over to the couch, picking up a few of the bottles of alcohol and setting them in the kitchen.

"Alcohol failed me," Geoff muttered. Usually everything got clearer when he drank, and the liquid filled him up with a warm, delicious feeling, but now he just felt like he was in his early 20s again, when he blacked out half the time he drank and woke up in strange beds.

"Yeah well, your kidneys are gonna fail you at some point." Michael grumbled out, pouring the little amounts of alcohol in the bottles out before moving to sit down on the armchair.

"Eh, I'm still young," Geoff waved it off. He'd be surprised if he lived to see 50, given his occupation. Drinking ended up feeling better than being sober.

Michael rolled his eyes, but didn't push the matter, if Geoff didn't want to talk, that was his problem. "Where's Gav?" He glanced around for added effect.

Geoff paled visibly, gnawing his lip. He had no idea where Gavin was. He had no idea if Gavin was still speaking to him. He had no idea if he'd fucked Gavin in the ass and ruined their entire friendship.

Michael huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn't know why Geoff was being such a prick, but he was definitely feeling annoyed. It bothered him that Geoff drank like he had something he needed to drink away, even if he never told the man, it was dumb and selfish. Alcohol couldn't save you from everything. He'd been coddled non-stop the last few days, and yeah, maybe he'd gotten used to everything being about him- but that didn't stop the fact that he suddenly felt incredibly rejected.

"I-uh... I'm going to tell you something and I need you to not be mad," Geoff murmured into his hands. Even the slicer of light coming through the curtain made his head pound. He couldn't wait for the- four, five?- painkillers he'd taken to kick in.

Michael furrowed his eyebrows at that, it definitely didn't sound good and he honestly didn't know if he could agree to not being angry. He'd barely just gotten over the last time Geoff did something to piss him off. "What did you do?"

"I tried to fuck Gavin..." Geoff grimaced into his hands. He didn't even /want/ to fuck Gav, he'd just been drunk and the smell of cinnamon had made him simultaneously jealous and horny. He'd wanted to make Michael feel the same way, and somehow his alcohol-soaked brain had come up with /that/ as a solution.

Michael's face fell, his first thought brought him back to Jackson. He'd always brought home someone to fuck when Michael had been bad, hadn't given him enough affection. He briefly wondered if Geoff was punishing him, if that was what he was doing, or if maybe it was because Michael hadn't made him happy enough when they were fucking. He thought he'd been good, he thought he'd given Geoff exactly what he wanted... He was torn between crying and shouting, part of him wanted to fall to his knees in front of Geoff and try to prove his worth, while the other part simply wanted to scream about how he was an asshole and how he couldn't believe he'd done it. His confused thoughts only left him to an unsure silence.

"Fuck… Please don't be angry, Michael…" Geoff cursed himself internally when his voice broke, "I was just- I was fucking drunk as dicks… Drunker than dicks, and I wanted- Fuck, I don't even know what I wanted. And he was there and I wanted you, and I wanted to make you jealous… I don't-" He dug his fingers into the spaces around his eye sockets, dragging them down as if he could physically wipe away what had happened.

Michael tried to cut off the painful sob that wrecked through him, bringing his hand up to bite his knuckle as he looked away from Geoff. He wasn't sure how to react, or why it /stung/ so much. All he knew was he was trying to filter through his mind to figure out what he'd done wrong, because he had to have done something wrong. Geoff wasn't even apologizing, which only proved to him that it was his fault.

Oh no. Oh God no. Michael was crying. Geoff had made him cry. He'd sworn he'd never do that… /Never/. What kind of fucked up, hormonal asshole was he that he couldn't keep it in his pants for five minutes when he was a little bevved? Oh /fuck/ no. He might as well shoot himself right then and there, because Michael motherfucking Jones was crying over him. "I'm sorry… I'm so, so sorry…" Geoff whispered the words through his fingers.

Michael stood up sharply, sidestepping the couch and making his way towards Geoff's bathroom. He half-jogged there, eager to get away from the situation and from crying in front of Geoff, /about/ Geoff. It just made him look weak and he was quick to slam the door and lock it. He slid back down against the door, eyes watering profusely as he tried to calm down.

Geoff sat frozen for a moment, before darting after the man, kneeling by the closed door and covering his mouth with his hand. What was /wrong/ with him… How had he fucked up this badly? But- This is exactly what Michael had done to him… Gone and fucked other people. Gone and fucked /Ryan/, the serial killer guy. Gone and let Ryan mark him, cut into him, and fuck him. Another part of him argued that this was different, that he was the adult, that Gav was Michael's best friend aside from Ray, but he didn't want to listen to that part. He didn't want to be to blame.

Michael could tell that his sobs were hysterically loud, and they stung against his already raw throat; punishments were always the worst part and they were worse when they came from people he didn't think gave punishments. At least with Jackson he knew what to expect, at least he knew he was getting rough treatment and emotional damage. He clutched tightly at his chest as he cried, fingers moving up to grip at his throat after a few moments. He hated breakdowns when they were this bad, when they were fucking painful. Maybe if he took the medicine, he could be good for Geoff too, maybe then he'd want /him/ again.

"Please Michael..." Geoff murmured, through the door, "Please forgive me... I know it's fucking selfish, and I'm a shitty person sometimes, but I need you. I fucking love you, I don't want anyone else- he was just /there/ and I didn't... I was so drunk. I was so, so drunk and all I could smell was fucking cinnamon whiskey." The sobs coming from the other side of the door were ripping him apart.

Michael listened to the words the best he could given the rushed way Geoff spoke them, but he wasn't sure how much of it he actually believed. Gavin was literally everything he wasn't, he was lean and cut, and he had the whole British thing going for him, not to mention he was mentally stable which Michael certainly was not. He pulled out the bag of pills, taking one out and biting at his lips. Everything stung, and his mind was remembering things he didn't want to, and he had to be good again, all the bad thoughts needed to leave. He got up, stuffing the bag behind one of the bathroom drawers before sitting back down and swallowing the pill. He reached up and unlocked the door, knowing Geoff would hear the audible click.

Geoff hurried to open the door, not even bothering to stand up from his kneeling position. The door swung inwards, forcing Michael to move so that the older man could push it all the way open. Geoff practically fell onto him, all rushed apologies and teary eyes. The painkillers were starting to kick in, and though his headache was beginning to fade, he felt woozy and a bit disoriented.

 

Michael wound his arms around Geoff, letting out a quiet murmur of 'it's okay'. He knew the drugs would take a good fifteen minutes to start working and he was eagerly awaiting the moment where his mind fogged up. His tears had slowed down somewhat, and his breathing was already returning back to a steady beat.

Geoff pulled back, cupping Michael's face in his hands. He wiped away the tears streaming down the other man's face with his thumb, "You're not angry?" He'd probably have yelled his head off by now, but everyone felt with rage differently; Michael usually yelled, or let it stew.

Michael blinked up at him, offering a small shake of his head. He didn't think it was right of him to be angry when clearly this was his fault, he'd done something in the span of the last few days to make Geoff upset and just because he couldn't necessarily see what it was didn't mean it wasn't what had happened. It felt like everything was piecing together, the fight Geoff had with Jack had been his fault; Geoff's drinking was most likely his fault. If he didn't have all these issues, everything would be okay, Geoff wouldn't be stressed out and he wouldn't have to act the way he was. Michael's shoulders felt intensely heavy.

"Oh thank God," Geoff breathed. He didn't think he could deal with having both Michael and Gavin angry at him. He wrapped his arms around the younger man, hooking his chin over Michael's shoulder and pressing quick kisses into every exposed patch of skin he could reach. "I'm so fucking sorry..."

Michael let Geoff hold unto him, running his fingers across the man's back. "Not your fault." He hiccuped out, shivering at the touches. He could feel his body starting to warm up, and Geoff's kisses were only making it worse. He could feel the high coming and he was thankful for the feelings fading out into happier ones.

Geoff threaded his fingers into Michael's hair, nuzzling into the younger man's shoulder. He was practically sitting on top of Michael, clutching him as if he might disappear.

Michael responded back to the touches, resting his head down against Geoff's shoulder. He could feel the sweat starting on the back of his neck, as his eyes blurred around the corners. He brought his fingertips to tap along Geoff's neck, enjoying the soft skin against his hands.

"Fuck, I need a shower," Geoff murmured, nipping gently at the skin below Michael's jaw. He smelled like sweat and booze; the mixture was so potent that the scent even overwhelmed /his/ nostrils.

Michael craned his head back when Geoff nipped on his skin, fingers clutching on the back of Geoff's skin as a breathless gasp fell from his lips. All of his senses were heightened and Geoff's voice sounded either really far away or really close; he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he was content to just sit here and inhale the smells and touch Geoff's skin.

Geoff pulled away, giving Michael a lingering kiss on the forehead. He pulled off his whiskey-stained T-shirt, moving to stand up.

"No-no, come back." Michael slurred out, eyes squinting closed for a second before he opened them again. He reached out for the man, greedily trying to reach forward to embrace him.

Geoff furrowed his brow, crouching back down. "What's wrong?" His drug-addled brain struggled to understand the man's sudden attitude change. Nevertheless, he reached back out to stroke Michael's cheek.

Michael smiled at him broadly, leaning his head closer to the man's hand. "Nothing." He murmured lazily, he felt euphoric and his high was barely going. He moved his fingertips to Geoff's stomach, fingers dancing across the man's skin.

"Well, I smell disgusting, so if you want to cuddle we're going to have to do it in the shower," Geoff teased, grabbing Michael's hands and pulling him to his feet.

Michael immediately stumbled when Geoff pulled him up, vision blurring harshly and making him feel slightly sick. His vision was absolutely dancing and he was pretty sure his heart rate was picking up.

"Whoa- Michael, seriously, are you okay?" Geoff caught him, stumbling backwards under the weight and giving the man a worried look.

Michael ran his hands up Geoff's biceps, placing the pads of his fingers against the man's tattoos. "'m fine, daddy." He murmured out habitually, the fine lines of his memories blurring into one with reality. Everything felt warped and distorted, though he could only feel content with a dazed far off look and Geoff's arms.

Geoff's eyes widened, and he grabbed Michael's chin in his hand, forcing the man to look him in the eye. "Michael, what did you take?"

It took Michael a while to respond, feeling his body shiver at the contact. "What?" He murmured out, continuing to trail his hands up and down Geoff's arms. "I'm being good, being so good." He repeated a few times over, almost silently.

"Michael... Where did you put them?" Geoff asked patiently, his tone firm, as if he was admonishing a child. Which Michael was the equivalent of, when he was drugged.

"In my mouth." Michael offered innocently, opening his mouth as if he was proving a point. He'd bought about six tablets, all that were now smartly squished back behind the third drawer of the sinks cabinets, that were impossible to find from vision alone and you'd have to physically stick your hand behind it. He shifted slightly on his feet, moving his fingers across Geoff's chest.

Geoff sighed. He doubted Michael would have bought just one; druggies never did. It was why he was still in business. He pulled open the bathroom cabinets, searching through them and making an exasperated noise when he came up empty. He turned around, giving Michael a disappointed glare.

Michael's hands suddenly felt very empty when Geoff walked to the cabinets, biting at his bottom lip and fiddling with his fingertips. Geoff's glare was already only a few moments from sending him to his knees, he couldn't tell Geoff where they were because he'd take them away and Michael hadn't figured out how to get them back from him yet. With Jackson it had always just been begging and asking for it, it had been easy to get the pills back. He tore his gaze away from Geoff to stare at his feet.

"Michael..." Geoff sighed, scrubbing his face with a hand, "Where the fuck did you put them? I know you didn't buy just one." He made sure to give the man a supremely disappointed face.

Michael was on his knees in an instant on that, tugging at Geoff's hips to try to bring him closer. "I'm sorry, please don't take them away." He slid his fingertips under Geoff's boxers, slightly-watering eyes looking up at him as he did.

Geoff closed his eyes, a stab of guilt rushing through him. He'd done this. If he hadn't been so confused... If he hadn't gotten drunk... If he hadn't tried to fuck Gavin, none of this would have happened. And though the sight of Michael on his knees made his cock twitch, the rest of him just felt sick. "Michael, please..." He didn't know what to say, or how he could express just on how many levels this situation was fucked up.

"I can be good for you." Michael rushed out, nuzzling his face against the front of Geoff's boxers. Enjoying the way the fabric tingled along his skin. "Don't be mad at me, I can do whatever you want." Michael hiccuped lightly, "I can call you daddy- or sir, or be your good little whore, or anything." His mind felt clouded and he wasn't exactly sure who he was even speaking to at this point, the room looked oddly familiar but his realities were mashed and he was confused.

Geoff could actually /feel/ his heart sink. It felt like there was a heavy stone resting at the bottom of his ribcage. He crouched down, gently taking Michael's face in his hands. "That's not what I want, okay?" No, what he wanted was to be able to kiss away Michael's monsters, for the other man to love him back, but that wasn't something he could ask for.

Michael frowned at him, eyes already starting to spill over with a fresh set of tears. Through his clouded mind he only understood that it sounded like Geoff didn't want him, and he couldn't say he blamed the man. He just wanted to enjoy a euphoric high, but this certainly wasn't making him feel very happy. He knew what came next, soon Geoff would be picking him up and tossing him on the streets, high and alone. The painful sob hit and he slumped back against the wall, he let out almost unintelligible murmurs of 'my fault' and 'sorry'.

"Fuck, come here," Geoff murmured, gathering the man into his arms. He cradled the back of Michael's head like he would a child's, rocking the man gently back and forth in his lap to stem the flow of tears. "It's not your fault, I should have known... Shh."

Michael fell into the embrace easily, arms wrapping around Geoff's neck as he sobbed into his shoulder. He could tell his tears were falling unto Geoff's back, but they slowed down soon enough from the rocking. He felt ultimately confused, his body felt like it was on fire, and he was too exhausted from his sobbing to care at the moment.

"Come on, let's get you to bed until you're sober," Geoff murmured, kissing Michael on the cheek. The younger man was hard to reason with when he was high. "You're officially on Geoff watch."

Michael whimpered and only clutched onto Geoff's neck tighter, he didn't want to stand up on his own or so much as move a muscle. His muscles felt tense and he wouldn't be surprised if his body started spasming, his fingers felt less tingly and more numb and he supposed it had something to do with the higher dosage. He felt like Geoff was talking to him like he was a child and the soft spoken tones felt nice traveling through his ears.

"Come on, buddy," Geoff muttered, wrapping his arms around Michael and pulling him up; he didn't think he could carry the man when he was ragdolling like this.

Michael let out a deflated sigh, reeling slightly when the world tilted as Geoff pulled him up, his legs felt like jelly and he was quick to clutch unto the older man as best he could so that he didn't immediately sink back onto the floor. He ground his teeth together harshly, moving a hand to rub roughly at his eyes.

Geoff sighed; Michael didn't look like he could walk two feet on his own. He supported the man's back with one hand, bending down to hook an arm around his knees and scooped Michael up bridal style. He grunted, not used to the extra 160 or so pounds of /person/. Maybe he should start working out.

Michael nearly screamed when Geoff picked him up, the yell only getting cut off when the world spun and he thought he might throw up, so he'd closed his mouth. Geoff was going to throw him out, he knew it, he'd messed up- he'd fucked everything up and this was his punishment. He'd had the signs, the fights over the phone, him trying to fuck Gavin, Michael just didn't realize it. "Please don't, no no no, please-please, don't make me leave-I can be good. I can be better!" He cried out, squirming in Geoff's grasp the best he could with his lack of coordination.

 

Geoff look down at the squirming man, confusion and worry lacing his expression. "Michael... I'm carrying you to bed, okay? You're not going anywhere." He tried to keep his voice calm and level, mostly succeeding.

“No, no you're not. You're going to throw me out, I don'- I've learned my lesson, please don't throw me out- I don't want any more punishments-I'm sorry." Michael could feel his heartbeat rising as he closed his eyes against Geoff's neck, hands starting to shake as the paranoia hit.

"Ssh- ssh..." Geoff murmured, walking through the bathroom door and over to the bed. He sat down keeping Michael pressed tightly against him, so the man wouldn't feel any illusion of being abandoned. "See? Bed. It's alright."

Michael blinked his eyes open to glance at the bed, before looking back at Geoff. "Y-you're not punishing me?" He hiccupped out, hands gripping tightly at the man's back.

"No. You're being good. You're a good boy," Geoff murmured. The words felt like poison on his tongue, but he knew they'd be calming to the younger man. It had been practically ingrained into him at this point.

Michael relaxed visibly at the words, letting his body slump more against Geoff's form. He was safe, if he was being good, he could stay and he wouldn't face the horrors of being high on the streets. He could remember one time he'd gotten the shit beat out of him and had his wallet stolen.

Geoff leaned back, cradling Michael in his arms. His legs were hanging off the bed, and he still really needed a shower, but he didn't want to upset the younger man after he'd only just calmed down. "I love you, you know," he murmured, knowing that Michael was probably too blissed out on X to give a fuck what he was saying.

Michael hummed in his throat, eyes closing at the sound of his voice. It made his ears ring with invisible bells and Geoff felt soft and warm along his fingertips, he yawned lightly, eyes starting to close as his muscles continued to periodically tense.

"I don't know if I love you when you're high, though... I don't like pretending to be anything like Jackson," Geoff continued, petting Michael's hair absently and letting his words lull the younger man to sleep, "And I hate it when you're afraid of me."

Michael's hands fell when his body finally caved into the confines of sleep, they hung limply by Geoff's sides as his body fell further against him as the exhaustion from his breakdowns creeped over him.

 

Geoff sighed, maneuvering the man off of him and onto the bed as gently as he could. He needed a shower. He needed to brush his teeth. He needed a drink. He needed to feel clean and organized and clear headed.

Michael barely reacted to the movement, head falling back onto the mattress and a hand moving up to rest on his own stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah.. the angst, it fuels me. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed, as always we'd more than love to hear from you.


	40. Chapter 40

Gavin had had quite the experience last night, rejecting a very drunk Geoff had not been easy especially with the way the man was climbing on top of him. He had rejected him gently, pushing him away and telling him he was straight and in a relationship. He'd made sure Geoff was asleep before he booked it out of there and gone to Meg's. He wasn't angry, wasn't even irritated really, just a little confused and a lot shocked. But hey, alcohol made you do some crazy shit. He opened the door to Geoff's house, shutting it behind him quietly before grabbing a red bull from the fridge and tossing his shoes off.

Geoff wrapped a towel around his waist, making his way quietly out of his room towards the kitchen. When he caught sight of Gavin, however, he nearly lost his hold on the cloth as his eyes went wide. He stood there for a moment, gaping like a fish before managing out a "Oh God, please tell me we did not have sex."

Gavin let out a laugh, "You're a good fuck, Geoffrey." He mused, watching Geoff's reaction for a moment before popping the tab of his red bull and shaking his head. "No we didn't, like hell I was gonna let you fuck me." He chuckled out.

Geoff's mouth dropped open at Gavin's first remark, but the expression was quickly replaced with relief. "Oh, thank God," Geoff breathed, collapsing onto one of the barstools, "I could fucking kiss you- in a totally not gay way."

"Hey, I let the first advance slide, but jesus Geoff you're not even drunk anymore." Gavin remarked, chugging down half of the red bull. "So, what was the deal with you last night?"

"I-" Geoff began, and promptly stopped himself. This was going to require some background. "Okay, so you know how Michael's fucking Ryan?"

"Well, as much as your drunk rambles have told me. Yeah." Gavin nodded, leaning to rest his elbows on the table and stare at Geoff.

"And you know how I'm a jealous asshole who doesn't play well with others? And also how Michael smells like cinnamon?"

"So you've said." Gavin nodded again, waiting for Geoff to continue.

"Well I talked to Michael on the phone, and he fucking psychoanalyzed me and said something about me wanting to fuck Ryan. So that, plus jealousy, plus cinnamon whiskey, equals me trying to fuck you to make Michael jealous and also because I was horny."

"Wait, you want to fuck Ryan?" Gavin furrowed his brow and tilted his head curiously at him.

"No!" Geoff responded a bit too quickly, "Or... Maybe I do? I don't think I do and now I want a drink." He dropped his head onto the counter with a thunk, and then a groan.

"Damm Geoff- okay, well... That's pretty important. Is Michael at Ryan's right now?" Gavin asked before swallowing down the rest of his red bull.

"No, he's here... And he's high and he won't tell me where is fucking pills are," Geoff groaned. Why did things have to be so complicated? Also, why did he have to be an adult?

"Well... Shit." Gavin muttered, "They have to be here somewhere right?" He questioned, making a face of concentration. "Did you check his pockets?"

"Uh, no," Geoff muttered, squeezing his eyes shut. He was a god damn idiot. "I checked the drawers, though- he was in the bathroom. I'm guessing they're there."

"Think he'll tell you when he sobers up?" Gavin questioned, rubbing at his face with one hand.

"I don't know… Maybe. He's probably still mad at me," Geoff sighed. He was pretty sure the only reason Michael had stopped falling to pieces was because he'd swallowed a pill.

Gavin nodded, shaking his head slightly. "So, what do we do?" He wasn't very good at this whole taking care of people thing and Geoff looked like he was about to kill over any second.

"Well, I was going to get a drink," Geoff muttered, standing up and tucking his towel more firmly around his waist. Alcohol may have failed him /once/, but that didn't mean it would do it again.

"Should we call Ray, or Ryan, or Jack..or someone?" Gavin made a face at the fact that Geoff was about to drink again, but didn't otherwise bother him about it.

Geoff shrugged, grabbing a beer from the fridge and twisting off the top. "I have no fucking clue. I think I'm just going to wait for him to wake up and play it by ear." He was good at planning, but not at predicting people.

"Well, how was he /before/ he took the drugs?" Gavin moved back to sit in the barstool, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back.

"… Upset," Geoff muttered, leaning on the counter and taking a swig of his beer. He shouldn't have said anything; he should have waited for Gavin to come home and explain what had happened. Now he was royally screwed.

"Maybe he'll feel better when he wakes up?" Gavin knew it was unlikely but he figured a bit of positivity couldn't hurt. He felt like Geoff had a lot of emotions he needed to work through, preferably without the help of alcohol but this was Geoff and that wouldn't happen.

 

"Yeah… Maybe," Geoff muttered doubtfully, scrubbing his face with one hand. "I just- I don't know how to deal with this, y'know? It's tough as dicks and I feel like an asshole for not wanting to handle it."

"Yeah, I get that." Gavin nodded, he had barely had to deal with it and he was already stressing out. Michael was constantly battling all his inner problems and it was hard to watch sometimes.

Geoff glanced at the clock on the microwave, letting out a sigh. "I'm gonna go wake him up… If you hear screams, it's probably because I'm getting my shit kicked in." He slid the beer towards Gavin, sidling around the counter.

"Alright..." Gavin mused, taking the beer and sipping at it. He didn't necessarily think it was a good idea, but he figured it was probably a good thing to make sure he hadn't stopped breathing yet.

Geoff made his way into his room, slipping off the towel around his waist and grabbing a pair of boxers. He dressed quickly, pulling on a t-shirt and jeans before sitting down on the bed and putting a gentle hand on Michael's shoulder.

Michael was sprawled out along the bed, hand resting against his stomach and light snores falling from his mouth. He shifted at the contact, letting out a sleepy groan and wiggling away from Geoff's hand.

Geoff couldn't help but smile slightly, despite his sour mood. "Come on, buddy. Time to get up." He ran a hand through Michael's hair, ruffling it affectionately.

Michael let out a loud whine at that, rolling over onto his stomach and curling his hands over his head; pushing Geoff's hands away and planting his face further in the mattress. He didn't want to get up, his head hurt and his stomach was cramping up.

"Yeah, I know you feel like shit," Geoff said calmly, "That's why you don't do drugs, kid. Just sell 'em." He only had a sliver of sympathy for the man, but it was enough to make his heart ache.

"Fuck off." Michael grumbled, lifting his head to shoot the man a harsh glare. He felt dizzy and disoriented and Geoff wasn't helping the pain at all.

"Only if you tell me where you hid your stash," Geoff countered. The glare hurt, but seeing Michael completely off his rocker was even less pleasant.

Michael let out a cruel laugh, shaking his head before face planting back into the bed. He could feel his body already craving another high and he wasn't about to let the option go, he'd spent a fucking fortune on them today.

 

Geoff rolled his eyes, forcibly rolling Michael over and patting him down none too gently. When he found nothing, he sighed, "Fine. Be like that, but you're using the guest bathroom. I don't know where the fuck you put them, but I will tear that room apart."

"Why don't you want me to be happy?" Michael demanded, furrowing his brows at Geoff as he spoke. He was being an asshole, he knew that, but he sort of deserved it.

"Yeah, asshole, I do want you to be happy," Geoff snapped, "I want you to be happy /without/ fucking up your brain’s hormone receptors and shit. Y’know, /actually/ happy, and not just high.”

"Hm, well maybe you should go hang out with Gavin then, huh? I'm sure he can be happy and drug free." Michael growled out, jealousy practically raiding off of him. It wasn't just the fact that Gavin was Geoff's favorite, or that he was british and goofy and happy in the best sort of ways, it was that he didn't have half the demons Michael did. Geoff could be so fucking happy with him, and that stung. "Just give me like twenty more minutes to sleep, I'll walk home afterwards."

"Are you fucking- We're still on this?" Geoff sighed exasperatedly, rubbing his face with a hand. "Fine, I deserve that. But Gav- Gav is straight, and besides, he's not the one I'm in love with." He wasn't sure if he was in love with /this/ Michael, but love was unconditional. You took the good with the bad.

Michael let out an exaggerated huff, he felt like he needed to scream and throw punches at Geoff, he felt like he needed the man to hold him and let him get out the pent up rage. As horrible as things had been with Jackson, the man would've already dragged him to his feet and let him scream; and then he'd sit him on the couch and rock him back to sleep and somewhere in the mix Michael would've sobbed out where the drugs were. Geoff didn't understand, and it only left Michael to clench his fists and try to work through the anger. "Whatever."

Geoff let out a breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his hands. "Michael… I'm trying, here. I really, /really/ am. I'm trying to be cool about the Ryan thing, I'm trying to let you handle things your own way; but I need you to work with me. Please…" He sounded tired and a little bit desperate.

Michael let out a harsh muffled yell into the pillow, he felt so fucking frustrated with Geoff. He sat up after a few seconds, flinching when his vision swam. "Are you shitting me right now? How fucking insensitive can you be? Do you seriously not think I'm trying?"

"I don't know!" Geoff shouted. He felt a little dead inside, and the alcohol in his bloodstream wasn't helping, for some reason. "I don't know if you're trying, or if you give a fuck about- about any of this! I can't read your mind; I don't know what it's like to be- be /abused/ by someone like that! I don't understand it, and I'm trying. I'm really, really trying to understand, but everything just-" Every bit of rage inside him seemed to dissolve and he collapsed, head falling into his hands as tears rolled down his cheeks.

Michael sighed when Geoff started crying, he knew he was annoyed that he /didn't/ understand, but he had to remember Geoff wasn't like him. He hadn't spent his entire life lacking someone that loved him, he hadn't spent years of his life being ignored and forgotten. He crawled closer, placing his hands in the back of Geoff's neck and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "You don't want to understand."

Geoff wiped at his eyes; Jesus, he was such a baby. "Yeah, well. It would make things easier." He leaned into the embrace as if every piece of contact was treasured. It was; he didn't need Michael to validate his existence, but he was something precious that the older man couldn't understand as hard as he tried.

"I'm serious, my mind is warped, Geoff. I'm damaged goods and you can do better than me." He sighed out, moving to sit in front of Geoff. "I'll tell you whatever you want to know about my thoughts, about my past, but I don't think you really want to know." It felt oddly similar to when he told Ryan he could ask him anything, but Ryan was different than Geoff, he'd lived through abuse and he understood it.

Geoff wasn't about to deny that Michael was 'damaged goods'; as crude as it might sound, it was true. But everyone was a little broken, and that didn't stop him from loving the parts of Michael that weren't damaged; it was the broken pieces he couldn't deal with. "I don't know what to ask…" Geoff trailed off, studying the younger man's face. "I guess, just, what do you want me to know?"

Michael furrowed his brows, he wasn't sure he wanted Geoff to know anything and it was always easier when someone interrogated him. He figured he should probably start more with his thoughts than the abuse. "I liked him, I- I'd never really had the.. Affection? When they first brought me out of my house, back when I was tiny as shit, I didn't let go of the caretakers leg for a week. But, they're not allowed to show too much love to one child- and that's always how I just sort of grew up- but Jackson, he showed me so much attention, and I was his special boy and it felt.. Incredible."

Geoff nodded, a bit sadly. He hated that Michael had had to go through something like that. He was so… Exceptional was the only word he could think of. Once again he was hit with the urge to take the man into his arms and kiss him slowly, until every lonely feeling was wiped away… But kisses weren't magic, and true love was bullshit. There was only love- damaged, fucked up, incredible love.

Michael shifted closer, moving his hands to clutch unto Geoff's shirt. "I- I know he hurt me and abused me, but... He knew how to handle me, fuck it, I liked the babying." Michael sighed out.

Geoff wrapped his arms around the man, burying his face in Michael's shoulder, nosing at the area and kissing it lightly, through the man's shirt. "And how does one… 'handle you'," Geoff grimaced at the term. Michael wasn't a dog, or an unruly child.

"I don't know- there were sometimes when I'd get upset and he'd just hold me and let me scream and cry- and hit sometimes. And then he'd just bring me to the couch and he'd hold me and he'd let me watch cartoons- and I know it's fucked up, don't tell me." He shook his head, he /hated/ his issues.

"I can do that, if you want," Geoff murmured, He hated the idea of being Jackson's replacement, but he would be, if it meant making Michael happy… If it meant he'd stay with him. If Michael wanted to call him "Daddy", he could handle it.

Michael blanked, hands habitually clutching tighter to Geoff's shirt. He wasn't sure, he really wasn't- he thought everyone was trying to work him away from that? And if Geoff was gonna play house with him, would he punish him too? Geoff already had a lot of Jackson's tendencies. He bit at his lip, unsure of how to reply.

"Not, like, the fucked up bits," Geoff quickly continued when he didn't get an immediate reply, "Just the babying you stuff or whatever." Michael was practically his son in a lot of ways, what was one more? Whatever made the younger man feel safe… Whatever kept him from leaving. Fuck, he was a selfish bastard.

Michael furrowed his brows, he /wanted/ it so bad; and Geoff was offering and he needed it- he needed it so bad. He felt himself nod against Geoff's neck, a small smile forming on his lips.

Geoff smiled, kissing the top of Michael's head and ruffling the curls affectionately, "In that case, come cuddle me, idiot." He shifted, falling back against the bed and pulling the younger man down with him.

Michael let out a small laugh, instantly shifting so that he was practically laying on top of Geoff and resting his head against his chest. He ran his fingertips along Geoff's stomach.

Geoff let out a small giggle when Michael's fingers brushed over a ticklish patch of skin, and he wiggled away from the digits. He didn't release the younger man, however, instead twining one of his hands through Michel's curls and letting the other slide under his shirt.

Michael sighed contently at the contact, moving his hands up in between then and resting them there instead. His head still hurt and he wished Geoff had brought him something to take when he came in here.

"No more drugs though, okay?" Geoff murmured, moving his hand out of Michael's hair to cup his chin. He rubbed the younger man's back, letting his nails gently scratch at the skin.

 

Michael grimaced, but nodded, he didn't make the rules anymore, that was one of the cons of the whole thing. He almost cried when he felt Geoff's hand rubbing his back, it'd been so long since he'd gotten that sort of comfort.

Geoff pressed a soft kiss to Michael's lips, "Good boy." He paused his rubbing for a moment, giving Michael a quizzical glance, "Is that okay? Can I say that?" He knew "baby boy" was off the list permanently, and even thinking the phrase left a sour taste in his mouth.

Michael nodded eagerly, already feeling himself giving into the side of him that loved the soft tones and gentle rubs. He was still being hesitant, unsure of what Geoff's rules were. He gave the older man a toothy grin, moving his hands to rest on either side of Geoff's neck.

"Cool," Geoff murmured fondly, giving the man another peck on the lips. He continued rubbing Michael's back, enjoying the way he practically melted into the touches. It was like he suddenly had a magic power, and he knew he could make the man relax to the sensation.

Michael hummed lightly, entertaining himself by fiddling with the collar of Geoff's shirt. They're bodies were pressed together tightly, given that Michael was no longer holding back his weight. He was slumped completely against him, already giving into the younger parts of his mind.

Geoff felt his eyes beginning to slip closed. He wasn't necessarily tired, but he was comfortable and Michael's body was warm against his. His touches began to slow, hands trailing over Michael at a leisurely pace.

Michael pinched the tip of Geoff's nose closed, successfully causing him to gasp out. "My head hurts." Michael murmured childishly, removing his hand from Geoff's nose. It was true too, his head hurt and he was pretty sure he might throw up at any moment.

"Mm, you want me to get you something?" Geoff asked, smoothing back Michael's hair. He sat up slightly, pecking the other man on the cheek and raising an eyebrow.

Michael nodded, scooting off of Geoff's lap and sitting on his ankles on the bed. He was happy that Geoff was going to help his headache go away. "Yes, please."

Geoff ruffled the man's hair affectionately, standing up and retrieving a bottle of painkillers from the bathroom, and filling up a glass. He shook out a few tablets, handing them to Michael and setting the rest on his bedside table. He waited for Michael to pop the pills into his mouth before handing him the water and sitting back down on the bed.

Michael dropped the pills in his mouth before tilting his head back to swallow them down. He took the water, chugging a good portion of the liquid down before leaning over to set it on the bedside table. He grimaced as the world spun, sitting back unto his knees and trying to keep the pills down.

Geoff leaned in, pressing a placating kiss to Michael's cheek, as if the contact might calm the man. He slipped his hand under Michael's shirt, rubbing his back with gentle fingers.

Michael responded back to the affection quickly, moving to sit on Geoff's lap and hooking his chin over the older man's shoulder. He let out a soft sigh and nuzzled his face closer to Geoff's neck.

"Damn, you really are cute like this," Geoff chuckled. This Michael needed physical affection like he needed air, and the older man had no problem offering it, stroking Michael's hair and tracing his fingers along whatever exposed patch of skin he could reach.

Michael let out a soft giggle, fingers moving up to tap lightly along the older man's face. "Thank you." He murmured quietly, body slumping against Geoff's.

"For calling you cute or getting you painkillers?" Geoff laughed, sinking back onto the bed and pulling Michael along with him.

"Both." Michael smiled, shifting a little due to the new position, but cuddling closer never the less. It felt amazing and Michael was quick to vent out all the stress of life and just forget about it for a while.

"Mm, what can I say," Geoff murmured, nuzzling his face into the man's hair, "I'm just generous. Also, you're irresistible."

Michael let out a light laugh, running his fingertips along Geoff's lips before pulling back and pressing a timid kiss to the man's lips. It reminded him of the kisses he'd give Jackson, and he briefly wondered if they had the same effect on Geoff.

Geoff grinned, using the hand in Michael's hair to pull him closer and deepen the kiss. His other hand slipped down to the small of the man's back, enjoying soft feel of skin against his palm.

Michael opened his mouth obediently, giving Geoff access to his mouth. He practically mewled when the older man ran a hand across his lower back.

Geoff let his tongue explore the other man's mouth for a moment, but pulled back at the sound. He wasn't sure if the cry had been in pleasure or pain, and he gave Michael a worried look, removing his hand from the man's back.

Michael furrowed his brows at him, hands moving to grip tightly on Geoff's shirt. "What?" He questioned nervously, automatically assuming he'd done something wrong.

"You made a sound. A very… high pitched sound," Geoff said cautiously, "I didn't know if that was a good noise." He did return his hand to Michael's back, however.

"Sorry, it was a good noise." Michael murmured, wiggling his hips slightly when Geoff returned his hand. Michael changed a lot when he switched over to his less adult version, and he forgot that Geoff wasn't used to it yet. He wasn't even sure he was used to it again yet.

"Okay, cool," Geoff chuckled, tilting his head up to claim the other man's lips in another, soft kiss. The gesture turned from gentle to searing very quickly, however, as Geoff recalled the delicious high pitched sound and mimicked his earlier action, trying to replicate the noise.

Michael squeaked at the sudden change, offering a light giggle to show Geoff that he was content. He moved away from the man's lips to let out another mewl, face flushing vividly with the way he wasn't trying to hide the redness. He shifted again innocently, as if he was just growing uncomfortable sitting still for so long.

Geoff let out a playful growl, grabbing Michael's hips and flipping their positions so that he was straddling the younger man. He nipped at Michael's neck, a hand winding through his curls once more and tugging.

Michael moaned out responsively, the heels of his feet digging into the mattress and kicking lightly as he wiggled below him. He tilted his head back and bit at his bottom lip, shooting Geoff a doe eyed expression.

"Jesus," Geoff inhaled, letting out a breathy puff of laughter, "How can you look so goddamn innocent?" Honestly, the thought of Michael making that face when he was getting fucked made his cock twitch.

Michael only offered a timid shrug, hands moving to trace his fingertips over the colorful patterns on Geoff's arms. He almost retorted back with a 'what do you mean?' but figured he didn't want to push Geoff into the situation too quickly, though as far as he could tell the older man definitely wasn't minding playing house.

Geoff rolled his eyes, pushing Michael's shirt up with one hand so that he could nip and suck at the younger man's chest. His teeth bit into the skin gently, and even that slight pain was quickly soothed by a hot tongue tracing over the bite.

Michael gasped when Geoff bit at his chest, chest arching up into the man's mouth as he slid his tongue across him. He was reminded of the cuts on his back when some of the bandages caught along his shirt, and wondered briefly if Geoff would be angry or not. He let out a giggle when Geoff sucked at a ticklish part of his chest.

Geoff pressed a feather-light kiss to the skin, eliciting another giggle from Michael. He pulled back, tracing his fingertips over the man's stomach, as he took in Michael's deliciously flushed face. "Take of your shirt." He'd meant it to be a suggestion, but it came out as a command.

Michael was eager to obey, sitting up more and grabbing the back of his shirt to struggle it off over his head. He honestly hadn't meant to get stuck when he did, and it took him a good few seconds to finally tug it off completely.

Geoff chuckled, reaching out to help him with the garment, but stopped short when he noticed what it had gotten caught on. "Ryan?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. The bandages were arranged in a distinct, symmetrical pattern, reminiscent of the now-healed triangle shapes that the man had cut into Michael's hips.

"Yeah." Michael nodded, giving Geoff a wary sort of expression. He still wasn't entirely sure how Geoff even felt about the guy, or how he felt about the cuts, the man's answers were always flip flopping around.

Geoff let out an indifferent hum, gently pushing Michael's chest so that he would lay back, lowering his head back down to mouth at the now-bare expanse of flesh. He sucked light hickeys into the skin, moving down to press a smattering of kisses to the man's belly.

Michael let out a series of whines at the sucking, moving his hands to tangle into Geoff's hair as he moved to kiss along his stomach. His breath was warm and it tickled his skin, causing goosebumps to rise across his flesh as a shiver ran through him.

Geoff scooted backwards, wiggling his way in between Michael's legs as he began to kiss lower. His progress stopped when he reached the waistband of the man's jeans, tugging at it with his teeth as he leaned over Michael, arms bracketing the younger man's hips. If they were playing house, then yeah, Michael was going to have to be good.

Michael bit harshly at his lip when Geoff tugged at his jeans, letting his hands fall to his sides and waiting patiently for Geoff to do something. He wanted to tell Geoff to hurry the fuck up, but it wasn't Michael's choice right now and he knew the older man was going to take care of him. It was both annoying and amazing, and he was quick to distract himself with staring at Geoff's patterns along his arms.

Geoff mouthed over the growing bulge in Michael's jeans, hoping to elicit a reaction at the very least. Usually he would be spewing out lewd comments, but it didn't seem quite right when the younger man was acting so childish. With his round face, and doe-like eyes, he forgot for a split second that Michael was most definitely an adult.

Michael moaned out, trying to resist bucking up against him as he shifted his hips instead. He clutched his fingers tightly in the sheets, desperate to be good for Geoff; he couldn't test the older man just yet.

 

Geoff grinned at the sound, finally popping the button on Michael's jeans and tugging down his pants. He traced the outline of Michael's cock through his boxers, gently palming him as he bit at the man's hipbone.

Michael kicked off his pants fully, hand moving up to grab at the man's hair gently, fingers petting at his hair more than tugging the strands. He groaned again, hips rising up slightly to try to get Geoff to touch him more and letting out a light cry when he bit his hip.

"What do you want?" Geoff murmured huskily, raising an eyebrow at Michael as he continued his ministrations. His touches were light and teasing, just enough to make Michael hard but nowhere near enough to get him off.

"Anything, p-please- I need it so bad-" Michael murmured out, fighting back the urge to call him daddy out of habit. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back, pouting out his lip as he wiggled his hips. "Need you, need something- please." It was more of a whine than a request.

Geoff grinned, tugging down Michael's boxers and letting the man's cock spring free. He wasted no time, immediately wrapping his lips around the head and sucking heartily. He was half-hard in his pants, and he couldn't help palming himself with one hand, while the other wrapped around Michael's dick and began to stroke.

Michael let out a cry, biting his lip and glancing down at Geoff with the sweetest expression he could muster up given the amount of pleasure running through him. He wiggled his hips, making sure to act like Geoff's touches were the best he'd ever gotten; continuing the act by letting out a couple of grateful little whines.

Geoff would have smiled, if it wasn't for the fact that his mouth was very much occupied with… other things. He lifted up Michael's legs, hooking them over his shoulders and bobbing his head up and down, taking more of the man in with each movement and flicking his tongue over the sensitive underside.

Michael practically squeaked, hips trying desperately to writhe underneath him. "God.. Geoff, hng, daddy." He let his head fall back onto the pillows, biting harshly at his lower lip.

Geoff paused for a moment, but mentally shrugged off the word; he'd pretty much signed on for this when he agreed to 'baby' Michael. If the younger man wanted to call him "daddy" while he was getting blown, Geoff didn't have an issue with it. It was other times that he found the experience to be… uncomfortable, to say the least.

Michael continued to wiggle his hips, letting out breathy gasps as Geoff continued to suck him off. He was remembering Jackson now, probably a little too much to be healthy, but Geoff was babying him and though he was gentler, their smirks were the same- he wasn't sure if he was even supposed to let this happen, Ray would be livid at Geoff- and fuck when had he started holding his breath? He could feel his writhing turning more towards panic- Geoff was going to turn him around and fuck him into the mattress at any point and then he'd call him whore and shut Michael up with fingers down his throat.

Geoff looked up at Michael, pausing for a moment. Something was wrong; there was a tension in the air, and the younger man was beginning to sound more panicked than pleasured. He wasn't sure if he should keep going until the man's orgasm wiped out whatever demons were currently plaguing him, or if he should stop. He didn't want to give Michael blue balls, but at the same time, he didn't want to prompt a breakdown. He gently removed his mouth from Michael's cock, staring at him worriedly.

Michael was frantic to say the least, hand clutching tightly at his chest as he kicked his way farther from Geoff, he fell off the bed, catching himself on his knees just in time to avoid slamming his head into the bedside table. He let out a dry heave, body contorting harshly before he made a move to run to the bathroom and drop down in front of the toilet. His mind was spinning and he felt unsure and confused. He hadn't even noticed when the attention had gone from amazing to terrifying and he hated himself for it.

Geoff squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, mentally cursing himself, "Fuck, I'm such an /idiot/." He stood up, adjusting himself so that his hard-on was a little less annoying, and walked into the bathroom. He knelt down beside Michael, reaching out hesitantly to rub his back in soothing circles.

Michael threw up into the bowl, hands moving up to tug in his curls as he let out a very distinct sob as he roughly scratched at his scalp. He felt horrible and over emotional, /now now, baby boy, that's not the way to be good/. Michael closed his eyes tightly when Jackson's voice ran through his ears. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He murmured out.

"Ssh, no. It's fine; I'm not mad," Geoff murmured, pressing a kiss to Michael's shoulder, "It was a stupid idea. My fault." The words stung his throat, but he knew they were true. He'd gone too far.

Michael let out a quiet whimper, panting softly as his body cramped up and he dry heaved again into the bowl. /he's just trying to make you feel better so he can finish fucking you, it's your fault, you're the one who made him stop./ "N-no, I told yo- you to, it's my faul- my fault." Michael panted out.

"Yeah, well," Geoff shrugged keeping his voice soft, "Since we were fucking playing house, it was my job to know your limits." He'd never been too good at that, though, and this time it hadn't just been him who suffered. He'd have to be more careful. "I fucked up; I'll make it up to you."

Michael reached forward to flush the toilet before sinking back and sitting down. He maneuvered around Geoff so that he could lay down on the cold tile, /you're not even good at being little anymore, you're not even a good fuck anymore. Just a druggie with too much baggage, that's sad baby boy/. Michael clenched his fists, letting his fingertips dig into the bandages covering the glass slices, it was a good distraction, emotional pain was so much worse than physical.

Geoff let out a heavy sigh, staring down at Michael with worried eyes. He stroked the man's skin, as much to reassure himself as to calm Michael down. His erection was becoming a little bit unbearable, and he absolutely /loathed/ that that was what he was paying attention to. He was selfish, achingly hard, and horny as fuck, despite the situation.

Michael sniffled, glancing up at him and noting the man's obvious discomfort with a furrowed brow. Where as he himself was nowhere near wanting to be touched, that didn't mean Geoff didn't. "I'm sorry... I can help- do you want to fuck my throat- or, I can jerk you off- or you can fuck me if you need to.."

"No, it's fine," Geoff murmured, running his fingers through Michael's hair, "I'll just jerk off. You need help getting back to bed?" He wasn't going to make Michael get him off, especially not in this state.

Michael just felt fucking awful now, he was such a sack of shit who wasn't even well behaved enough to get Geoff off. He should've just masked his discomfort, he'd done it for Jackson loads of times, he shouldn't have let himself have a breakdown. Geoff shouldn't have to deal with him, he needed to be paid and thanked, he shoved Geoff back into a standing position and tried to tug at the man's jeans.

"Michael…" Geoff murmured, grabbing the man's wrists. He wouldn't say no if Michael really wanted to blow him, but he didn't think the man was in a position to even know what he wanted.

Michael looked up at him, throwing him a confused sort of expression. Geoff was really making this more difficult than it had to be, he could just fuck his throat and get it over with and then Michael could lay down on the cold tile and cry and Geoff could go get some sleep. He was trying to be good, and Geoff was making the entire thing difficult. "Let me-" He hiccuped mid sentence.

"Fucking Christ," Geoff murmured, crouching back down and pressing a kiss to the younger man's forehead. "Michael, you are not obligated to blow me. If you want to, I'm not gonna say no, because you're cute as dicks, but I'm pretty sure you don't want to."

"I-I'm trying to be good, y-you're not letting me." He murmured out, tears falling across his cheeks as he crossed his arms tightly over his chest. He honestly felt so entirely lost, and Geoff's comforting didn't feel very comforting right now.

"Isn't being good, doing what I want?" Geoff raised an eyebrow. Of course, he could point out that Michael wasn't obligated to be good for /anyone/, but he doubted the man would listen in his current state. "And I want you to actually think about what the fuck /you/ want."

 

Michael moved to lay back down on the cold tile, pressing his back against the wall and clutching his arms up around himself. "I want to die, or I want the drugs." He sobbed out honestly, leaving out the fact that he actually did want Ryan as well at this moment.

"No, you don't…" Geoff murmured, brushing the hair out of his face. Michael was an absolute wreck when he detoxed, and he'd thanked Geoff for "putting up with him" when he'd gone through this the last time.

"Fuck off!" Michael cried out, shooting a glare up to Geoff's eyes with his own furiously watering ones. He felt horrible, sick and angry and Geoff was only making everything worse.

Geoff held up his hands, standing up and backing up a few paces. "Fine, but if you want to sleep in the bathroom or whatever, you're going to have to give me your stash." At this point, Michael was so upset that he'd probably end up ODing.

Michael didn't respond, he wasn't about to give up where he'd put them and he was stubborn enough to just curl up closer to the wall. It's not like Geoff could force him out of the bathroom, and even if he did Michael would lash out, he knew he would.

Geoff sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face and sitting down on the toilet. Honestly, he just wanted to jack off and go back to drinking, but he couldn't even go get Gav and let him deal with the situation; Michael was naked, and he had a hard-on the size of fucking Texas, though even that was beginning to fade.

Michael let out a few more quiet sobs, curling his arms up over his head and trying to kill the immense amount of depression he felt around him. He wished Ryan was here, to just pick him up and slide his boxers back on and cuddle him to sleep, he didn't want Geoff who was acting like Michael had ruined his entire night with his large amounts of baggage and issues.

"Fuck it," Geoff muttered, fishing his cock out of his pants and beginning to jerk himself off, hard and fast. It was too goddamn distracting, and he needed to finish himself off before anything else went wrong. He felt fucking disgusting, but at the same time, finally paying some attention to himself was a relief. It wasn't like he had anything better to do.

Michael continued to lie there, eyes closed and hands wound tightly around his head as if he could block out all the horrible feelings with them. He didn't pay any attention to Geoff, letting out a few sniffles and sobs as his heart stung painfully.

Geoff came with a moan, stifling the sound by biting his knuckles. He looked down at himself in disgust, getting up to wash his hands and zipping his pants back up. Still, he felt better, even if the orgasm hadn't been nearly as satisfying as he'd hoped.

 

Michael shifted positions to lie with his face facing the wall, body curling in closer to himself as the shaking took over. He hated crashes so fucking much, he felt like he'd rather be run over by a goddamn truck.

Geoff sighed, sitting down a few feet away from Michael. He mentally willed the frustrated expression off his face, replacing it with calm neutrality and an open posture. The other man may have been angry at him, but that didn't mean Geoff could just go off on him when he'd prompted the entire incident.

Michael let out a quiet yawn, whether or not he wanted to admit it, he'd most definitely just had a breakdown and his body was already trying to recover from the exhaustion by sending him to sleep.

When Michael's breathing slowed down into the steady sounds of sleep, Geoff lifted him up as gently as possible, carrying him over to the bed and tucking him in. He pressed a kiss to the man's forehead, before heading back to the kitchen, eager to let alcohol wash away his guilt and anger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where's Ryan when you need him eh?
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed, as always, we'd love to hear from you!


	41. Chapter 41

Gavin glanced up from where he was sat in front of the TV while on his phone, Game of Thrones was playing on the screen and he arched an eyebrow up at Geoff's completely drained expression.

"Did you drink the rest of that beer?" Geoff asked tiredly, shuffling towards the kitchen without waiting for an answer. He wanted something stronger, too; anything but cinnamon whiskey, really.

"Yeah, there's more in the fridge..." Gavin murmured, furrowing his brows. "Is everything alright?"

"Everything sucks dicks," Geoff muttered, grabbing a bottle from the fridge and twisting off the cap. He took a swig of the beer and walked over to the couch, collapsing next to Gavin. "Everything sucks dicks hard."

Gavin let out a sigh, offering a sympathetic smile and a pat on the back. He didn't pester for more information, instead letting Geoff drink in silence but offering moral support.

Geoff leaned over, resting his head on Gavin's shoulder and mimicking the man's sigh. "You know what else sucks dicks? Me. I suck dicks. And when I do, Michael freaks out on me and suddenly I'm sitting next to a naked, crying man in the bathroom with a hard-on the size of Texas."

Gavin's eyes widened at the words, that would definitely be a good reason to drink. "Damn, Geoff... That's uh- that's rough, I'm sorry."

Geoff made a noncommittal noise, chugging down more of his beer. "That's not even the full, fucking story, but I don't think you want to hear the rest of it."

"You're right, I don't." Gavin nodded, he took a few seconds before asking, "Do you want to call someone /now/?" He honestly didn't think Geoff could deal with a crashing Michael by himself.

"… Ray," Geoff grimaced after a moment's thought. "Yeah, fuckin' call Ray for me?"

"Do you want me to ask him to come over?" Gavin questioned, already dialing Ray's number.

"Yeah… I just- I'm not good at /dealing/ with him like that. I say all the goddamn wrong things."

"Hey Ray, yeah it's Gavin, Geoff sort of needs you to come over." Gavin murmured into the phone. "Yeah, it's about Michael- thanks, see you soon."

Geoff chugged down the rest of his beer, tossing the bottle haphazardly onto the table. He felt hollow, frustration fading and leaving him with nothing. For the second time in as many days, the rush of alcohol through his veins wasn't comforting.

 

Gavin hung up the phone and kicked his feet up on the coffee table, rubbing a hand along Geoff's back to offer a little comfort. "So, is he okay, at least?"

"Sleeping," Geoff muttered, leaning into the touch. No wonder he'd gone for Gavin when he was drunk; the man didn't mind touching him. His comfort was friendly rather than obligatory. But, of course, he'd had to fall for the fucked up, damaged druggie who'd fallen on his doorstep.

Gavin nodded, sitting in quiet silence while they waited for Ray to show up. Ray had made sure to come over the moment he got the call, he'd half expected to hear the sounds of shouting when he finally arrived at Geoff's door, but there was only silence, which was starting to worry him more when he knocked.

Geoff got up from the couch, opening the door and motioning Ray inside silently. His face was laced with a tried sort of worry, the kind that's been present so long that it has stopped sapping energy and started sucking away years of his life. He knew he'd have a few more gray hairs by the time this was all over… If it was ever over.

Ray let out a sigh at Geoff's expression, he looked exhausted and Ray didn't even doubt who caused it. He glanced around, happy to at least not see the man in a sobbing mess on the ground. He gave Geoff an understanding gaze, running a hand across his neck. "Alright... What's wrong?"

"Breakdown. Breakdown/s/." Geoff muttered, collapsing back onto the couch. "My fucking fault, both of them. Also, he managed to get ahold of some E and it's probably in my goddamn bathroom somewhere."

Ray noted that Gavin excused himself to his room and figured it was probably for the best. He moved to sit down on the armchair and run a hand across his face. "I need more details than that, Geoff, I can't help you if I don't know what you did wrong." He was trying to be patient, he really was, but Geoff looked like he was shutting off and simply handing him over to Ray. "Also, we have to find the drugs... Preferably before he does.”

Geoff sighed, dropping his face into his hands as if he could somehow hide from Ray. The last few days had not been his proudest moments. "Which parts do you want to know, and how explicit do you want me to be? There's some fucking R rated material." He laughed bitterly.

Ray sighed, already feeling the need to cringe. "Alright, putting away the fact that I'm about to get scarred for life, I'd like to know as much as possible."

"Okay, so you know how Michael's fucking Ryan? I got… jealous. I got confused, and drunk as dicks, and tried to bang Gav. /I fucking tried to have sex with Gavin/," Geoff groaned, fingers sliding up to clench in his hair. "And so I wake up, I down like 4 painkillers for my massive migraine, and have no fucking idea if I actually did bang Gav. So Michael comes home, and I'm feeling guilty as fuck, so I tell him, and…" He grimaced.

Ray's eyes widened and he sat back further into his seat as he shook his head slightly. Geoff had so many issues of his own, whether or not he would admit it, and holy hell he'd tried to fuck Gavin to get back at Michael, and he wasn't so sure that was entirely healthy. "And?" Ray prompted,

"He fucking ran into my bathroom, crying- I made Michael /cry/." He said the phrase with profound self-loathing. Fuck, he shouldn't even be allowed to touch Michael. He'd just end up breaking him further. "Next thing I know, he's letting me in and he's fucking /giggly/ as dicks and so I'm guessing he popped a pill and hid them somewhere."

Ray let out another exaggerated sigh, running a hand through his hair. He was happy he had an extensive knowledge of drug users. "Did you check to see if they were taped behind the toilet? Or the bath rugs, or behind the drawers?" He questioned, Michael could be sneaky when he wanted to be.

"… No," Geoff made a face. He only sold to druggies; he didn't really keep track of their habits. In fact, it was rare that he ever even dealt with them directly, unless they were someone famous like Joel Heyman. "He'll be asleep for awhile though, we can look later. I'm assuming you want to hear the rest? Because it only gets /better/ from here on out." He made sure to lace the comment with as much sarcasm as possible.

"Yeah, I do, go on." Ray prompted, he'd almost gotten out of helping Michael entirely this time, what with the way Geoff and Ryan were juggling him, but per usual he was a call away to come over and fix him when they needed it.

"Well, I fucking put him to bed and took a shower, then went into the kitchen. Gav was home, so I fucking figured out we didn't bang, because apparently the dude's straight or whatever," Geoff made a face. He didn't understand how anyone could limit themselves to just one gender. "And then I went to wake up Michael…" he trailed off. /God/, he didn't want Ray to know how royally he'd fucked up.

Ray avoided rolling his eyes, he really didn't give a shit whether Gavin and him had actually fucked. "And then...?" Ray quirked an eyebrow, Geoff was really prolonging this and he was growing curious as to why.

"I- uh… Fuck," Geoff muttered, pulling his knees up to his chest, adamantly refusing to look at Ray. "So we ended up talking about him and Jackson, and what he got out of the relationship… Like, what he liked about it. And he said he liked being babied, which, y'know, I get..."

Ray nodded warily, of course Michael enjoyed the attention, he'd never been babied before in his life, never so much as thought he was special. He furrowed his brows, trying to put what Geoff was saying together. He really, really hoped it wasn't what he was thinking.

"So, I said, 'I can do that if you want'," Geoff mumbled, voice saturated with shame, "And so-" His voice cracked and he made a face, burying his head between his knees. "Again, how fucking explicit do you want me to be?"

Ray felt angry mostly, he could fit the rest together and he wasn't happy about it but Geoff's shame filled voice was making it difficult to be too mad. "Shit, Geoff- how far did you push him?" He wondered if Michael was afraid of Geoff, he'd never had to help Michael when it came to sexual shit and he didn't know how to fix him in that aspect.

"I didn't fucking /push/," Geoff growled, pulling his head from in between his knees and glaring at Ray. How could the younger man think he'd /ever/ coerce someone into doing something they didn't want to do. He'd just… miscalculated what Michael could handle. The man didn't know his own limits. "You wanna know what I did? I fucking blew him. He didn't /touch/ me; I'm not some asshole who just wants to fuck and get it over with." He spat out the words, as if Ray had personally insulted him.

"Oh wow, you blew him, you want a fucking prize?!" Ray stood up then, feeling angrier than he had been in a long time. "You don't think that fucker ever blew him before? He probably thought he was being good for you, Geoff, jesus fucking christ. How could you be stupid enough to let you treat him even a tiny bit like he treated Jackson!" Ray shook his head in exasperation, Geoff was fucking stupid and he had no fucking clue to fix the man's mistake.

Geoff deflated, shrinking into himself more and more with each word. He'd fucked up. He knew it… He fucking knew how badly he'd messed up, but he was so goddamn selfish… He'd just wanted Michael to love him back. Admitting it stung… Stung so fucking much. Michael was probably closer to being in love with Ryan the psychopath who cut him up for fun than he was having feelings for Geoff. He remembered the desperate look in the man's eyes when he'd said he was /trying to be good/, and it made him cringe.

"Look, Geoff. I get it, believe me, I really fucking do. It's a lot of work, and he's a /lot/ of work. It's fucking hard to know what to do, or say, especially when he hangs on your every word." He ran a hand across his face, he didn't mean to make Geoff feel bad, but he needed to admit he'd fucked up before they could fix it. "I'm going to be honest, I'm not entirely sure how to help him through this one... But he will get over it- it's probably just a minor setback."

"He doesn't love me," Geoff murmured, almost too soft to hear. He let out a bitter laugh, and /fuck/, there it was again: the telltale prick of tears in his eyes and the desire to drown himself- literally or metaphorically- in alcohol.

 

Ray blanked, he /really/ didn't know how to deal with a clearly distraught Geoff and Gavin, the fucking asshole, had just shut the front door. "Michael doesn't love anyone Geoff... He doesn't understand it." He wondered vaguely if Ryan would help him... Maybe he'd have better luck with Geoff's horrible ability to not listen. Didn't they have some weird threesome going on anyway?

"Doesn't make it easier," Geoff muttered, wiping at his eyes viciously. "Though I guess you wouldn't fucking know. Honestly, I'm kinda surprised that /you/ aren't the one with Michael. He kinda latches onto people…" He'd remembered the brief period when the man had had a crush on Gavin. When he'd found out his "boi" was straight, it was Geoff's shoulder he came to cry on, Geoff who'd told him horror stories about the Brit until the younger man was laughing his head off. Slowly, but surely, he'd gotten over his crush on Gav; Geoff was pretty sure the lanky man didn't even know that he'd ever even had one.

Ray let out a sigh, he hadn't signed up to help Geoff through whatever issues he had at the moment. "We're brothers, that's it." Ray chimed up with a shrug, Michael had tried, when he'd first helped him out, but Ray was always brutally honest in the fact that Michael wasn't his type and the man had understood that their relationship was definitely more brotherly than anything. "Are /you/ okay?" Ray questioned, honestly he was a phone dial away from calling Ryan.

"Get me a bottle of vodka and I'll be fine," Geoff shrugged, laughing bitterly, "Or I'll drown in it. So, either way… I'll be fine."

Ray sighed, shaking his head and texting Ryan out a quick "are you doing anything important?" He could really use the back up, but for now he needed to try to find the pills in Geoff's bathroom.

The reply was quick: "Not particularly. Why?" Geoff curled further into the couch, basking in his own misery.

"Long story, Michael took drugs, passed out, Geoff's drinking himself into a stupor. Gavin bailed out on me, wouldn't mind the help." Ray texted back quickly, tiptoeing in through Geoff's room and trying not to wake a very passed out Michael. He turned on the bathroom light, crouching down and reaching behind the toilet before pulling up the rugs.

After a few moments, his phone buzzed again: "Be there in 5." 

Geoff decided that nursing a bottle of rum sounded like the best cure for his fucking /feelings/, and retrieved one from the kitchen. He curled up on the couch, breathing in the smell for a moment, before taking a long drink.

Ray nearly smiled when he yanked out a few of the drawers and found the one hiding the pills. He stuffed them in his pocket, Michael was such a predictable druggie. He moved quietly back to the living room and glanced at Geoff. "Maybe you shouldn't.."

 

"Lots of people drink when they're fucking upset, Ray," Geoff shrugged, a bite edging around the words. "Did you find them?"

"Yeah, mentally unstable people." Ray commented, he'd spent years with an alcoholic father, he wasn't dumb when it came to the beverage being used as a coping mechanism. "Yeah, they were behind one of the drawers."

"/I'm/ mentally unstable? Fuck off," Geoff muttered. "At least I don't fucking cut people up for fun, or breakdown and call people 'Daddy'." The alcohol loosened his tongue, and for once he simply sat back and let it run unsupervised.

"Okay Geoff." Ray shrugged, running a hand through his hair and moving to sit on a barstool, he took out his phone and let out a thankful sigh at Ryan's answer. Thank Christ he wouldn't have to deal with them alone.

Ryan had been cleaning his knives, and getting a few choice guns out of storage in preparation for the heist when he got Ray's text. There were more important things than polishing the barrel of your sniper rifle until you could see your face in it. He wasted no time with the elevator when he arrived, jogging up a few flights of stairs and knocking on the door.

Ray bounded up, opening the door with a thankful sigh. "Thank you." He murmured out, rubbing a hand across his face and opening the door further for Ryan.

"No problem," Ryan said coolly, stepping inside the apartment and letting his eyes sweep over the interior. Geoff was curled up on the couch, bottle clutched to his chest like a security blanket. When he saw Ryan, the older man sighed, giving him the middle finger and collapsing more thoroughly onto the cushions. "Fuck off, asshole… Ray, did you fucking call him? Traitor," Geoff grumbled taking a swig of rum.

"Texted, actually." Ray shrugged matter of factly, he grabbed Ryan's arm and pulled him out of earshot of Geoff. "Okay, quick run down. Geoff tried to fuck Gavin, he told Michael and Michael I guess broke down and he must've gotten pills somewhere because he was definitely on E, and so Geoff sent him to bed. I guess when he woke up he told Geoff that he liked the babying and Geoff offered to baby him, and he gave Michael a blow job." Ray took a breath before continuing. "He freaked out, broke down again, and fell asleep. Also, apparently somewhere along there he called Geoff daddy."

Ryan raised an eyebrow, taking a moment to process everything he'd just heard. Mostly, his mind latched onto the words "Michael", "pills", and "broke down". "Did you find the pills?"

 

Ray reached into his pocket and pulled out the bag of five or so brightly colored pills. "They're 200mg," Ray explained, the pills had their dosage on them, as most higher dosages did.

Ryan grimaced, "Flush 'em. They probably cost a fortune, but he's too likely to OD if he gets his hands on them." If the pills were a lighter dosage, Ryan would have considered letting the man ease off the drugs, but going cold turkey might end up being better in the end, despite the wicked detox.

"Alright." Ray nodded, moving over to the sink and dumping the bag down the drain, he slammed on the garbage disposal knowing perfectly well that those weren't being recovered anytime soon.

The corners of Ryan's mouth twitched up in satisfaction as the grinding sound reached his ears. Geoff only made a face, hunching further into himself and glaring into space. Ryan rolled his eyes, sitting down by Geoff's legs, resting one hand on the man's ankle. "You look like shit."

Ray tossed the bag in the trash before eyeing Ryan and Geoff, it was odd to see Ryan so comfortable with him and he wasn't positive he understood it, never the less he was thankful he didn't have to be the one to calm the older man down.

"Fuck off," Geoff muttered, swatting at the man's hand. Instead of doing as he was told, Ryan pried the bottle of rum from Geoff's grip, while his boss struggled to keep ahold of it, letting out a high-pitched whine. 

"Geoff, I suggest you don't make me angry right now," Ryan said cooly, setting the bottle on the coffee table and smacking Geoff's hand away when he reached out for it. The tattooed man glared at him, but made no further attempts to get his hands on the alcohol. 

"The fuck do you want?"

Ray snickered at Ryan's quick ability to take the bottle away, the whole scene was actually pretty funny, despite the circumstances. He didn't think he would ever have the nerve to face an angry Geoff, or take away his most beloved possession. He moved to sit on the barstool, not really wanting to be in Geoff's presence.

"I want to know exactly what you did to him," Ryan said calmly. Geoff turned his head away, a look of guilt clouding his vision, but Ryan's hand quickly latched onto his jaw, turning the tattooed man's face towards him. 

"We just- I sucked him off," Geoff muttered, his glare faltering under Ryan's icy gaze.

"I know you blew him. Congratulations, you get a cookie." Ryan's voice practically dripped sarcasm, "I meant I want details."

 

Ray could tell he was going to be on Geoff's bad list for a while, but to be fair he really had no clue how to help Michael get over things that revolved around sex, and Ryan did, so if anyone knew how to help it'd be him. He did politely take out his phone though, keeping his distance from the conversation.

"What, you want a play-by-play?" Geoff sneered, but Ryan only raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, actually. That would be quite useful."

"We cuddled; we made out; I sucked his dick; he freaked out," Geoff said flatly, "Or did you want me describe how he was begging for it?"

Ray cringed, letting out a heavy sigh. Geoff really was acting like an asshole, and even though he knew it was because of the man's inner issues, it still gave him the urge to punch him in the face.

Ryan's eyebrows shot up, "Are you trying to make me /jealous/?" He laughed harshly, shaking his head as if the idea was absolutely ridiculous, “You want to have a pissing contest right now? Frankly, /Boss/,” he spat out the word with contempt, “I could tell you stories that would make your cock twitch. But I’m not going to… Because I’m not really interested in a competition, I’m interested in /Michael/.”

Ray tapped his fingers along the countertop, still trying to pretend he wasn't snooping in on the conversation. He let himself wonder if the relationships were starting to have an effect on Michael, but figured him being alone would be worse.

Geoff didn't have a chance to respond; Ryan released his chin with distaste, walking back towards the bedroom. The tattooed man stared after him, slack-jawed. He put a hand to his chin, mimicking Ryan's fingers in disbelief. For once, though, the argument didn't make him feel angry. He felt… Chastised, almost. Ryan had drained away his rage and replaced it with a quiet sort of confusion. "/Fuck/," he muttered, rubbing his jaw almost reverently.

Ray watched Ryan walk away, flicking his gaze to Geoff before standing up and getting him a glass of water. 

Michael was curled up almost entirely under the covers, his head was laying with his face smushed into the mattress instead ot the pillows, his breathing was steady enough but his eyes were tear stained and his still naked body was drenched in sweat. He was letting out quiet unintelligible murmurs as his hands grabbed tightly at Geoff's sheets

Geoff took the water with a murmured thank you, raising it to his lips and chugging it down as if it was the thing he craved. The ghost of Ryan's fingers holding his chin in place sent a shiver up his spine, and things began to sort themselves out in his mind: 1, He was in love with Michael. 2, He wasn't sure how to deal with /broken/ Michael. 3, Ryan did. 4, He… wanted to fuck Ryan. Or get fucked by Ryan. Or watch him fuck Michael. Or- he cut off his fantasies before they became too obscene. 

Ryan sat down on the edge of the bed, gently laying a hand on the lump of cloth covering Michael.

Michael flinched at the contact, body trying to worm it's way from the realms of sleep. He blinked awake slowly, viciously aware of his pounding headache and his shaky body. He recalled the events from earlier, tears instantly falling along his cheeks as he shifted away from whoever was touching him. He felt guilty for not being good enough to Geoff, and the horrendous feeling was lingering across him.

Ryan's mask collapsed into a look of pure worry. Michael's tears were dripping onto the pillow, but he didn't dare forcibly turn the man over to wipe them away. "Hey, it's okay…" he murmured, hoping that his voice, at least, would get the younger man to look at him.

Michael let out a sob, body shuffling to grab the pillows for some sort of comfort. He recognized Ryan's voice but he knew he didn't deserve the man's affection. He bet Geoff had called him because he didn't want to take care of him anymore. Even that, he should be thankful that Geoff didn't throw him out.

Ryan let out a soft sigh, slipping off his shoes and sliding under the covers next to Michael. He curled his body in towards the man, propping himself up on an elbow and reaching out to stroke Michael's back with the other hand. He didn't dare rub it, though; the telltale reminder of Jackson might be enough to set the man off again.

"He hates me, he-" Michael's voice broke into sobs, his tears were falling steadily and his breathing was starting to turn to hyperventilating. "I-I wasn't good for him, I-" A sort of strangled gasp fell from his throat, hands moving to grab at his chest, as if it would help.

"/Michael/," Ryan murmured, his tone firm and commanding despite the low volume of his voice, "Geoff doesn't hate you. And besides, you don't need to be good for anyone. If you want to fuck someone, fuck them. If you don't, don't. It's called consent, and you aren't obligated to get Geoff off just because he loves you."

"He'll-he'll leave me, or-or lock me up, or so-something." Michael sobbed out, moving to sit up and try to catch his breath. His heart hurt, and he felt like he could cry for days.

"I won't let him hurt you." Ryan stated the words like a fact rather than a reassurance. "And if he leaves you, you have me. I sincerely doubt he will, though… He practically worships you." This last was said with a bitter edge to it; he was never able to see people as any more than human. Michael deserved to be put on a pedestal, at least by someone. God knows he'd been beaten down enough for one lifetime...

Michael was quick to sniffle and move to nuzzle his face into Ryan's shoulder, falling into the man's arms and ignoring the fact that his tears fell across Ryan's shirt. He was trying to listen to Ryan's words, to understand them, but really he was just thankful for the affection.

Ryan wrapped his arms around Michael, burying his nose in the man's hair and littering the top of his head with quick kisses. He could feel Michael's tears soaking into his shirt, oddly hot against his skin.

Michael wound his hands in Ryan's shirt, letting his sobs fall from his throat roughly. Ryan was honestly oddly comforting, and he briefly recalled Geoff letting him sob on the floor and it made him wonder what Ryan would've done.

Ryan hauled Michael into his lap, positioning the younger man so that his chin was hooked over Ryan's shoulder and his legs were on either side of the older man's torso. It wasn't the best position, but it was one in which Michael could cling to him tightly without being uncomfortable.

Michael cuddled closer into Ryan's arms, body slumping against him as his sobs quieted due to the comforting position, which left him only taking in shaky breaths every few moments.

Ryan turned his head, pressing a soft kiss to Michael's cheek. "Ssh, it's okay… Just take deep breaths."

Michael took a deeper breath, exhaling a soft sigh afterwards and sniffling quietly against his shoulder. His eyes closed as his body relaxed, he wasn't tired but the comfort was relaxing.

Ryan could actually /feel/ the tension leave the other man: his muscles relaxed, and he all but slumped against Ryan. The older man let out a soft sound, murmuring a few more placating sentences into Michael’s ear.

Michael gave out a soft yawn, snuggling in closer to Ryan when he whispered in his ears, he removed his hands from their tight grip, placing them instead gently against the man's stomach.

"You're going to have to talk about it," Ryan said softly, stroking one hand up and down Michael's back, "Not now, necessarily, and not necessarily to me, but you have to. You have to find a way to deal; you can't ignore it."

Michael felt his body tense back up, "What do I need to talk about? Nothing is going to fix it, nothing is going to fix /me/." Michael murmured out.

Ryan sighed, pulling away from Michael just far enough that he could take the man's chin gently in hand. "You're not /broken/, Michael; you're mentally ill. PTSD isn't something that you can get up and walk away from… You have to talk. You know that; you're the expert on psychology here."

Michael knew Ryan was right, he'd managed to power through it before, the first time. But he didn't have it so lucky this time and he knew he had to man up and fight it face to face. "I've known four cases of PTSD that ended in suicide. "

Ryan's face cracked, worry seeping over it as if a dam had broken. "Don't. Please, don't…" Now it was his turn to lean forwards, burying his face in Michael's shoulder and clutching him tightly. He couldn't deal with that… Not again. Not another suicidal lover whose screams were music to his ears. Not again.

"Don't want to," Michael,murmured quickly, placing a kiss to the man's soft hair. "Won't leave you like that- I just want it to stop hurting..." It was true too, even though he wanted to right now he was smart enough to know it was just part of crashing. He wasn't selfish enough for such an act anyway, or brave enough.

"Promise me…" Ryan murmured, "Don't promise me you won't… I won't make you do that, but promise me… If you have to… You'll let me do it?" The thought of Michael leaving the world without him made him sick to his stomach. He'd make those last minutes /good/. His best.

Michael pulled back to stare at him, sliding his hands to grab either side of the man's face. "I promise." He nodded back, pressing their lips together harshly before pulling back. "I- when I talk, I don't want it to be Ray again, he's-he's already done this once, I want him to take a break- he needs a break." He muttered out.

"I'm here if you want me," Ryan reassured him, stroking the man's face with one hand. "/However/ you want me," he chuckled, a sad sound that didn't effectively lightened the mood like he'd hoped.

"I don't know what to talk about." He admitted, "Geoff'll probably want to know too- or maybe he won't- did he call you to come get me?" Michael was jumping through conversations so fast even he couldn't keep up.

"No, it was Ray," Ryan reassured him, "Also, your drugs are gone, by the way… In case you were going to go look for them." He remembered the satisfying sound of the pills being crunched up by the garbage disposal.

Michael let out a groan, letting himself collapse backwards on the bed with an exaggerated huff. "I spent like seven hundred on those." He whined out, running a frustrated hand across his face.

Ryan snorted; they hadn't even looked high quality. "You got ripped off. Were they even any good?" 200mg was a lot of X, but there weren't enough pills in the bag to warrant $700. But he supposed you didn't really consider pricing when you needed a fix.

 

"Weren't the best, though Geoff was killing my high so I wouldn't have enjoyed it anyway." Michael grumbled, he didn't give a shit, he knew the asshole had taken one look at him and decided to charge higher than normal. But Michael could afford it and he'd needed it so bad. He still needed it actually, but he could throw a fit at them later. He reached over the bed, grabbing his boxers off the floor and wiggling them up over his hips.

Ryan nodded, edging his way out from under the covers and slipping his feet back into his sneakers. "How are things with the alcoholic hypocrite?" He raised a brow; he knew it was bad, but he didn't know how Michael felt.

"It was my fault." Michael shrugged nonchalantly, he glanced back over to Ryan with a frown. "You're not leaving... Are you?" He fucking hated himself and the weak sound of his voice.

"Of course not… I don't trust him," Ryan's lip curled. "But are we ignoring the part where he tried to fuck Gav? Because I don't think that one's your fault."

Michael stared at the wall in front of himself for a second. "I mean, it's Gavin, he's literally everything I'm not, I can't blame him for needing a break. Besides, I was kind of off fucking you when it happened- so."

Ryan sighed softly. He didn't know when Michael's self confidence had been sapped away like this, even if he knew by whom. Perhaps the bravado he'd put on before had been false; Ryan could believe that. God knows he wore his fair share of masks. "I'm guessing he tried to fuck Gavin because you were fucking me. He's jealous like that."

"Exactly why it's /my/ fault." Michael shot him a look before crawling over the bed and winding his arms across Ryan's shoulders and pressing a kiss to the man's cheek.

"Nah," Ryan dismissed, giving Michael a slow smile, "I think I'll take the blame on this one. I'm just too good with my tongue…"

Michael chuckled lightly, pressing their mouths together and sliding his tongue across Ryan's lower lip despite the awkward position. He pulled back, "Probably."

"Shall we?" Ryan asked, standing up and offering Michael his hand. "Or do you want to fuck in Geoff's bed?" He wasn't entirely opposed to the idea, but at the same time, it was probably not the best thing to do in this situation.

Michael took the man's hand but gave a hesitant glance towards the door. Honestly, he wasn't sure he wanted to face Geoff, but figured he'd have to do it at some point. He grabbed his shirt off the floor, not really wanting Ray to see the bandages along his back. He slid it on and let Ryan lead him out towards the living room,

 

Ryan regretted seeing his work covered up, but it was probably for the best. He considered swinging a proprietary arm across Michael's shoulders as he walked back to the living room, but decided that he really didn't have the right to claim the man like that. Instead, he twined their fingers together, squeezing Michael's hand reassuringly.

"Hey Michael, finally decided to wake up, huh?" Ray questioned, not missing a beat as he offered Michael a friendly grin. 

"Not really, didn't have much choice in the matter." Michael shrugged, but smirked at him never the less, he glanced around the room and grimacing at the bottle. Geoff was drinking again. He tightened his hold on Ryan's arm, avoiding the urge to run back in Geoff's bedroom and lock the door.

Geoff was curled up on the couch, making himself as small as physically possible. He glanced up when he heard Ray's greeting, and glanced away just as quickly when he noticed Ryan and Michael's intertwined hands, a mix of shame and jealousy marring his features. He /really/ wanted that drink...

Michael furrowed his brows at Geoff's reaction, sending Ryan 'what do I do' gaze. He suddenly had a bottle of water shoved in his hand from Ray and thanked him quietly before breaking away from Ryan's hand to drink a few sips before screwing the cap back on and winding his hand back into Ryan's. "Uhm, do you want me to leave so you guys can talk...?" Ray questioned, eyes only locking with Ryan's.

Ryan nodded, "I think that would be for the best, given the situation." He doubted Ray would want to hear this conversation; neither their impending argument nor the serious conversation about sex that was sure to follow would be interesting to the younger man.

Ray nodded before pulling Michael away from Ryan and into a tight hug, it was oddly affectionate for their friendship. "You call me if you need me." Ray murmured, pulling back and offering the man a smile before walking towards the door and shouting a quick goodbye for Geoff to hear, he opened it and shut it quietly behind him. 

Michael waited for Ryan to act first, shifting awkwardly from one foot to another.

Ryan sighed, sinking into the armchair beside the couch and looking between the two men. Geoff looked supremely uncomfortable, and Michael was shifting as if he wasn't sure what to do. /Children/, he thought, rolling his eyes. Geoff may have been a good half a decade older than him, but he was still a child. "Are we going to be adults about this at any point?"

 

Michael moved to sit on the coffee table, crossing his legs and avoiding both of their eyes. It was awkward to say the least and he just wanted to hide back in Geoff's room and avoid the entire situation.

Geoff muttered something that sounded something like "Probably not" and Ryan rolled his eyes again.

"Fine. Let's start with an apology, then, since you're not going to do it yourself."   
Instead of immediately arguing that he shouldn't have to, that it wasn't his fault, or trying to skirt the blame like he usually would, Geoff only nodded, looking shamefacedly up at Michael with a murmured "I'm so fucking sorry…"

Michael furrowed his brows, but shrugged and gave Geoff a face of indifference, as if he hadn't been sobbing on the man's bathroom floor. "It wasn't your fault, I shouldn't have asked- you didn't do anything wrong, it's fine."

Ryan shot Geoff a cool stare, clearly communicating that "Yes, you did, but I'm letting it slide… For now" and making Geoff shiver slightly. Now that he'd permitted himself to admit that he was attracted to Ryan, every one of the man's icy stares sent a spike of arousal through him. Which was probably not good, given the situation. But Ryan's arms were crossed over his chest, muscles standing out tautly under the skin. 

"It's not. I'm a dick," Geoff muttered, almost wincing as he said it.

Michael raised an eyebrow, allowing himself to peek over at where Geoff's eyes were falling. He shot a gaze back to Geoff with a shrug, "Whatever, it happened. It's okay." He really didn't feel like it mattered that much, and Geoff seemed to be apologetic enough and also definitely staring at Ryan's arms. Not that Michael could blame him, Ryan certainly had appeal.

Ryan raised an eyebrow at Geoff, and the man's gaze quickly shifted away, gnawing at his lower lip. The younger man was fairly sure that tipsy Geoff had finally managed to work out his feelings, and as wonderful as that was for all of them, the answer he'd come up with wasn't one Ryan was particularly happy with. He liked Geoff, but the man's ink stood out starkly on his arms, decorating them better than a lattice of cuts ever could. He didn't think his cock was interested in the idea of slicing the man open, and that was generally the idea that gave him the most pleasure.

Michael ran his hand across his face, annoyed by the silence that was lingering over them. It wasn't as awkward as just frustrating and it made Michael want to yell. He let out an audible sigh, hands moving to tap at the coffee table.

Ryan sighed, standing up from the armchair and sitting down next to Geoff on the couch instead. The tattooed man made room for him, sitting properly on the piece of furniture and casting Ryan a mixed expression. Ryan stared back at him, cool gaze resting on Geoff's confused one until the older man flushed, slightly.

Michael observed the interaction with wariness, raising an eyebrow when Geoff flushed at the man's gaze. Michael himself had gotten used to Ryan's intent stares, the ones that acted like they could see into your soul. He wasn't sure how they'd gone from hating each other, to this.

"So, are we going to talk about this like adults?" Ryan asked, rephrasing his earlier question. Geoff shrugged, his eyes sliding away from the older man's intense stare. He wasn't an adult, he never had been. He could plan a crime spree, or kill a man, but coming face to face with his feelings was still something he had trouble with.

Michael let out a heavy sigh, rearranging his position so that he could rest his elbows on his legs and stare at Geoff. "Can we talk about this, please?" Michael was already commited to talk, he knew he had to be at least a somewhat, Geoff however seemed to still be pouting.

Geoff's eyes slid over to Michael, and his expression made him look like a petulant child. "Talk about what?" He wanted to deny that there was anything /to/ talk about, but both men would see through that excuse in an instant.

Michael rolled his eyes, shooting Ryan an exasperated expression before grabbing Geoff's face and looking him in the eyes. "You're being impossible." he seethed out, though the tone was mostly gentle. "If you want to keep secrets, fine."

"I don't know how to fucking say it!" Geoff burst out, his hands flapping about him wildly as if he was attempting to fly away, "I mean- he's fucking /right there/, Michael. With those goddamn arms and the eyes that stare into your fucking soul, and I still feel /wrong/ about this!" Somehow it was easier to rant about this to Michael than to say it directly to Ryan's face, though when the tattooed man spared him a glance, the only expression he could make out was slight bemusement.

Michael's eyebrows rose up as he took in Geoff's words, he honestly hadn't expected him to just admit it and it made him mostly confused. "I knew it, I so knew it." He smirked, letting his hands slide away from Geoff's face before glancing over at Ryan. "So, what do we do...?"

"Shut the fuck up," Geoff muttered, hunching into himself even further when Ryan chuckled. 

"Generally, people talk about these sorts of things," the man smirked, and once again Geoff was struck with how goddamn attractive he was. He recalled the smooth, muscular torso that lay under Ryan's shirt, and idly wondered if his bullet wound had left a scar. "Obviously, this would work much better if I knew what I was dealing with, though," Ryan raised an eyebrow at Geoff, who realized he'd been staring… just a bit. "So, I'm assuming you want to fuck me?"

 

Michael looked between the two of them, he had to admit he felt a little bad for Geoff, Ryan had a way of making you feel pretty insignificant. Michael moved to bite at his thumbnail, still glancing between the two of them

Geoff's eyes widened and he looked like he was about to start spluttering out denials, but then his shoulders slumped and he ran a hand over his face, trying to hide his blush… Fuck, why'd he always get beat red when he was flustered like this? "Yeah… That would be- yeah. Or, y'know, the other way around… Or, uh, Michael…" he muttered, for once feelings ashamed of his desires. Ryan just seemed to make everything feel… /dirty/ somehow. He wasn't sure if he liked it.

Michael didn't think he'd ever seen Geoff get so red, and honestly even he was starting to feel a little embarrassed. "Is that why you got so pissed at me when I asked? How long have you been crushing on him? I thought you hated him?" Michael demanded, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I don't /know/, Michael," Geoff hissed, turning to glare at the other man, "I didn't really think about it until you fucking said something. And I do hate him… Did." He shot an apologetic glance at Ryan, who only shrugged.

"You wanna hate-fuck me; I'm taking it as a complement." Though, at some point he should probably mention the fact that, though he was happy to get Geoff off, he wasn't really interested in reciprocation.

Michael shrunk back under the glare, quieting down, he wasn't too fond of Geoff's tone. He raised an eyebrow at Ryan, he really hadn't thought the man would be too fond of the idea, but he was being oddly respectful of Geoff's feelings and the possibility of something actually happening was weighing high in the air.

"I- Yeah, sure. Let's go with that," Geoff muttered, looking away. 

Ryan sighed, gently taking the tattooed man's chin in hand and forcing him to turn back. "Do you, or do you not want to fuck me? It's a fairly simple question."

Michael watched the contact, it was oddly intimate, gentle and somewhat kind despite the fact that those words didn't seem to fit Ryan at all. He waited expectantly for Geoff's answer, questioning gaze focused on the two of them.

"Yeah, okay? Yeah. I do. I want you to fuck me into the mattress." There was a bite of sarcasm to the words, but they more than bordered on truth nonetheless. "Look, I don't- plans aren't my thing, okay? Can we just… get it over with?" Geoff looked away as he spoke, or did so as much as he could with Ryan's gentle fingers on his chin.

Michael made a face, he really didn't think they were all on the same page and Geoff was still being a bit of an asshole, "Get it over with? Aren't you the one asking for it?" Michael threw out, he felt oddly protective over Ryan- which made him feel odd and unsure, he didn't want Geoff using Ryan as an object and that's what it was starting to seem like. Or maybe he was just feeling like this wasn't all about him this time and it annoyed him- though the thought of them banging was enough to send shivers of excitement through him.

Geoff's shoulders slumped, and grabbed Ryan's wrist, pulling the man's hand off him so that he could curl up into himself once more.

Ryan sighed, giving Geoff a sympathetic look. "You're also assuming I want to fuck you." At this point, it would be easier for everyone if his cock would just like what it was told to, but he'd never been that lucky.

Michael groaned and stood up, he rolled his eyes as he wandered into the kitchen and searched through Geoff's cabinets for some sort of snack. He smiled when he locked his eyes on Debbie cakes, grabbing a packet of them and moving back to slouch into the armchair. Conversations were difficult as fuck.

Ryan's eyes broke away from Geoff for a moment, tracking Michael's movements and grinning when he saw the packet of snack cakes. He noticed that Geoff was watching Michael too, with a stupid smile on his face. That was ultimately what decided it for Ryan; Geoff was a hypocritical bastard, but at his core, he was completely in love with the person Michael used to be, before all this drama had reinserted itself into his life, and, by extension, theirs. 

Ryan's hand returned to Geoff's chin, gently prompting the man to face him, and leaned in to kiss that fading smile. It was brief and chaste, the younger man pulling away from Geoff's lips, which followed him searchingly, if only for a moment.

Michael quirked an eyebrow up, it was weird as fuck to see the two of them kiss, though it was sort of incredibly hot in a bizarre sort of way. He leant back against the armchair, swallowing down a bite of the rich chocolate. "Well, when you two fall in love and leave me, I'm so hiring Ray to assassinate your asses." Michael joked, or mostly joked- his fear of abandonment was still vicious, but he doubted they would really leave him for each other, or he hoped not at least.

Ryan got up, walking over to the armchair and leaning in to give Michael a chocolate-y kiss- admittedly much more passionate than the one he'd given Geoff. "Nah, then who would I slice to ribbons?" He ran a hand over Michael's back, putting pressure on the bandaged wounds, just enough to sting. 

Geoff cleared his throat, "Yeah, but if you could not do that around me… That'd be great." He couldn't stand to see Ryan cut into /Jackson/, and he'd hated that bastard with a burning passion.

Michael flushed at the affection, letting out a mixture of a hiss and a whine when Ryan ran his hands along the bandages. He shot Geoff a curious look, he honestly thought the man would've been curious as to Ryan's cutting talent at least a little bit. "Not a fan of blood, Geoff?" He mused, taking another bite of the chocolate dessert. He honestly was probably enjoying the sweet a little too much, but it'd been a long time since he felt confident enough to eat willingly and he was going to take advantage of it. He glanced up at Ryan. "Geoff thinks your dick is huge, by the way, and that you are good with knives, and that's why I like you." He smirked, shooting Geoff a somewhat innocent look.

Geoff's eyes widened, and a laugh forced its way between his lips before he could stop it, "You're a dick. And blood is fucking disgusting. Also, I don't like seeing you hurt." The aftermath, however, was admittedly pretty cool to look at.

Ryan only grinned, settling himself on the arm of the chair so that he could both watch Geoff's reactions and continue to press his fingers along the cuts on Michael's back. "Mm, he makes such pretty noises though…" He raised an eyebrow, and Geoff flushed.

Michael moved slightly so that Ryan could press more firmly along the cuts, the sting was amazing and Ryan's warm hand was certainly not unwanted. He bit back a whine, instead tossing the cake wrapper to the side and licking the melted chocolate off his fingers.

"He always makes pretty noises," Geoff agreed with a small smile, standing up and walking over to the pair. He took hold of Michael's wrist before the man could pop his index finger into his mouth, licking the chocolate off the digit himself. Honestly, he really wasn't opposed to ganging up on Michael, and judging by the smirk on Ryan's face, neither was he.

Michael flushed harsher, eyes blinking as he watched Geoff suck on his finger. He swallowed, letting out a quiet groan at the situation alone. He was already getting hard and they hadn't even fucking done anything yet.

"This is going to be… different," Ryan mused, his voice a low purr in Michael's ear. "I can't imagine we have the same strategies…" 

"Do you want to talk strategy, or fuck?" Geoff snorted, removing his mouth from Michael's finger with one last lick to the tip. He settled on the other arm of the chair, winding his fingers through Michael's curls and tugging at them lightly. 

"Both, generally."

Michael let his eyes fall closed at Ryan's voice, his voice honest to God sounded like honey and it sent shivers across Michael's spine. He opened his eyes when Geoff pulled away and tugged his fingers into his hair, immediately leaning his head back to let Geoff continue tugging and so that he could glance up at him. It was almost as if they were bragging about him, and he wondered if this was going to turn competitive or if he'd mind if it did.

 

"What's your go-to, then?" Geoff raised an eyebrow. He preferred jerking Michael off as he whispered lewdly into his ear, but Ryan seemed like the quiet type. He carded his fingers through Michael's hair, half-tugging on the strands, and half-massaging the man's scalp. 

"Mm, well if you stick your tongue up his ass, he absolutely /melts/," Ryan murmured, his gentle fingers turning rough on the last word and digging into Michael's back.

Michael gave a few quiet moans in response to Geoff's impromptu massage, but let out a slight cry as Ryan's hand dug into his back, arching forward and grinding his teeth together as he let his head meet the back of the armchair. "Jesus, fuck." He grumbled out quietly. This was easily the best thing he'd ever experienced, he was calling it, he could die happy now.

Geoff smirked at Ryan over the top of Michael's head, "Nice. But I prefer leaving my mouth free for… Other things," he bent into nip at Michael's ear momentarily, his fingers pausing for a moment and giving Michael's curls a tug. "I'll watch, though…" he murmured with a sly grin.

Michael let out an almost squeal, shifting slightly under the attention of Geoff's mouth on his ear. He lifted his hand back to grab at Geoff's face, pulling their lips together heatedly.

Geoff responded fervently to the kiss, opening his mouth to Michael, but his eyes stayed locked on Ryan's face. The man's was all cool amusement and sarcasm, sitting back slightly so he could observe the contact. Michael kissed Geoff so much /differently/, and the tattooed man's lips and tongue lacked all of Ryan's skill and precision, though they made up for it with passion. He idly slid his hand under Michael's shirt, firmly tracing his fingers over the triangle just below the nape of Michael's neck.

Michael prodded his tongue against Geoff's for a few moments, pulling away to groan at Ryan's touches, he really wished they could take the bandages off completely, the pain would've been ten times as delicious if they'd been flesh against flesh. He moved positions, turning around and sitting on his knees, he pressed his lips to Ryan's, and comparing the two side to side, they definitely had different tactics.

Ryan reached up to cup Michael's face as he kissed the man slowly, biting down hard on his lower lip for a moment, while the hand not occupied with keeping Michael's mouth on his dug more forcefully into the man's wounds. Not to be outdone, Geoff leaned in to nibble at Michael's neck; as much as he wanted to watch, he also wanted to coax as many sounds out of him as possible.

Michael let out a few moans against Ryan's mouth, tilting his head a little more to give Geoff the room he wanted. He lifted his hands to Ryan's arms, fingertips trailing across the defined muscles. He pulled away when Ryan prodded at an especially painful spot, letting out another slight cry. "F-fucking hell..." He gasped out.

 

Ryan smirked down at him, but didn't go in for another kiss. He wanted to confirm that this wasn't too much, that they weren't overwhelming the younger man. Geoff stopped sucking hickeys into Michael's neck when Ryan shot him a cool glance, wrapping his arms around the man's shoulders instead. "How are you doing?" Ryan murmured, raising an eyebrow and stroking the pad of his thumb across Michael's cheek.

Michael let his head fall back against Geoff, using the break to catch his breath and attempt to calm himself down. "Great, /really/ fucking great." He nearly moaned out, hands reaching forward to tug into Ryan's hair. Honestly, the feeling of both their contact was hypnotizing and he didn't think life could be going more his way right now.

Geoff nuzzled his nose into Michael's hair for a moment, before moving his attention to the man's ear. He licked along the shell, blowing on the spit-moistened skin and causing Michael to shiver. "What do you /want/, Michael?" His voice was low and breathy, and Ryan could definitely appreciate Geoff's charismatic way of speaking. "Because I have /so/ many ideas about how we can make you cum your pants that I can't choose one on my own…"

Michael groaned, he definitely did not feel like he had the ability to intelligently pick just one thing, not when they were both so close to him and his dick was already twitching in his pants. He was almost embarrassed with the way his words stumbled from his throat. "An-anything, everything fuck, whatever you want, j-just someone touch me." He whined out, fingers grasping harshly at Ryan's hair as his hips bucked against the air.

"At least he isn't picky," Ryan chuckled, leaning in to place a warm kiss on Michael's jawline while his other hand palmed the man at the same moment Geoff bit down on his neck once more. "What in particular did you have in mind?"

Geoff shrugged, nipping at the crook of Michael's neck before speaking, "Like I said, I wanna make him cum his pants. He's so fucking hot… Kinda wanna see him wrecked like that." Pleasure-blinded Michael was one of his favorite Michaels.

Michael bucked up against Ryan's hand, letting a few thankful moans fall from his throat. He moved to grab at the back of Ryan's neck tightly. He wasn't positive what they were saying, but Ryan was touching him and Geoff was biting at his neck and holy fuck- Michael let out another,slight cry, breathy groans following after. "Fuck, fuck-" He bit at his bottom lip harshly, drawing blood accidentally.

Ryan chuckled in agreement, leaning in to kiss Michael and drawing his tongue over the younger man's split lip. If he was a romantic, he might say that Michael tasted differently than Victoria, or any of his victims that he'd been bold enough to taste, but he wasn't; Michael tasted just like everyone else, but that didn't mean he wasn't delicious. His hand continued to palm Michael, slow and steady, but then Geoff's hand was over his.  
"Quit teasing him; he looks even better well-fucked," the tattooed man murmured, guiding Ryan's hand into a quicker, harsher rhythm. "Won't fall asleep after this though, will you, baby?" The possessive slipped out of him, prompted merely by Ryan's presence.

Michael opened his mouth against Ryan's, allowing him better access to his split lip. Once Geoff's hand guided Ryan's to a faster speed, he pulled away and slammed his head back almost painfully against Geoff's shoulder. It was odd to hear Geoff refer to him as baby, but he wasn't about to complain and only nodded an affirmative to whatever the man said. "Ca-can't la-last." He whined out, desperately not wanting it to be over, his endurance had always been pretty good given how well trained he'd been with Jackson, but he wasn't sure the guys would go anywhere near over stimulating him.

"How's his refractory period?" Ryan asked, letting Geoff guide his hands through the motions. He didn't feel like he was out of control… He just felt like he wasn't doing all the work, for once. It was nice, in an unexpected sort of way.

"Don't know," Geoff chuckled breathily against Michael's ear, "I guess we'll find out, though." He nibbled at the man's earlobe, teasing it with his teeth.

Michael let himself grind into their hands, hips moving as much as they could with the way he was still sitting on his knees. He let out a few moans as he came, head tilting back against Geoff's shoulder, and blinking back the blurring vision. "Ah! Fuck."

Ryan and Geoff shared a satisfied glance, moving to sandwich Michael in between their bodies. Ryan kicked off his shoes, settling his feet in the chair and kissing the younger man's neck, while Geoff simply moved closer, mimicking the gesture on Michael's other side. 

"Told you," Geoff murmured, "He's hot as fuck when he comes his pants."

Michael shifted slightly, his pants bunching almost painfully against his cock, they felt sticky and wet, but he couldn't be bothered to care with the way they were both pressing against him, and he slumped back against them. "Fucking Christ..." He murmured.

"I prefer 'Geoff', but 'Christ' works too," the tattooed man chuckled, while Ryan rolled his eyes. Geoff shifted slightly in his seat on the arm of the chair, his semi-hard cock pressing against Michael's back not quite uncomfortably. His partner in crime seemed to be in a similar predicament, fortunately, and as much as he wanted to watch Ryan fuck Michael into the mattress, he wouldn't say no to some foreplay.

"Can- can we like move to the bed or the couch or something? This chair is fucking tiny." Michael muttered, stretching his arms in front of him and smiling when an audible pop hit. He had managed to hear enough of their conversation to know that they wanted him to recover, and he knew he was lucky enough to have the endurance for it to not take him long, and he had not one but two very sexy men with him so he doubted it'd be more than thirty minutes even if he didn't have the practice that he'd had before. He let himself kiss along Geoff's jawbone gently before shifting and standing up.

Ryan raised an eyebrow at Geoff, who jerked his head towards the hallway, "Bed. More room that way." He stood up, wrapping his arms around Michael's waist and pulling him into a brief kiss. 

"Keep that up, and I'll get jealous," Ryan teased, standing up and cracking his neck.

Michael chuckled at Ryan's teasing, he knew Ryan got protective, but he doubted he was actually ever jealous. He pulled away from Geoff, making sure to give Ryan a quick peck before he turned and headed in the direction of Geoff's bedroom, slipping his shirt off over his head as he did.

Ryan smirked appreciatively at the sight of Michael's newly bloodied bandages, following the man at a leisurely pace. Geoff's expression screwed up in one of distaste, but nevertheless he followed suit. He could probably deal with the blood, given the fact that he'd be taking part in a goddamn threesome in approximately- what, thirty minutes? Thirty minutes at most. And before then, he really hoped to get an actual look at Ryan's cock; for all his posturing, he was curious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOOH SHIT! I bet you totally called that. My all time favorite chapter right here, angst, threesomes, foreplay. Perfect.
> 
> As always, hearing from you guys is awesome.
> 
> Also, though. You guys should definitely go check out Michael's origin arc. (http://archiveofourown.org/works/4823636/chapters/11046203) It'll give you a lot of good insight. You're not forced to, but one of the characters will eventually make a minor appearance and you should know him.


	42. Chapter 42

Michael slid into the room, already moving to jump on the bed and eyed them expectantly, eyes making sure to look over both of them equally, as if he was sizing them up. Though really he was just wondering how he'd managed to get a threesome, letting himself wonder exactly how this had happened.

"You gonna take off those pants?" Geoff raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against Ryan. The younger man didn't seem to care, focusing his attention entirely on Michael, a hungry look in his eyes.

Michael's flush returned, growing only slightly embarrassed at the fact that they were both watching. He slid his hands defiantly over his chest and ran his eyes across their bodies. "You're both still fully clothed though..." He mused but moved to unbutton and slide off his pants and underwear as well. Now was definitely not a time to suddenly grow nervous about being naked in front of them. He figured that at least this way he could brag about fast recovery.

"Can't have that, can we?" Ryan chuckled, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. Next went his pants, and Geoff thought his eyes were actually going to pop out of his head because /holy fuck/, did Ryan look good. Muscles weren't generally Geoff's thing, but he was more than willing to make an exception for the taught, well-toned body laid out before his eyes.

Michael tilted his head, observing them for a few minutes, or well, more or less observing Geoff staring at Ryan, he almost wanted to laugh because this was the same guy who threw a fit because Michael kissed him. "Your turn Geoffrey." He mused, already grabbing at Ryan's hands and pulling him down unto the bed. He wrapped his arms around him from behind, letting his hands run over Ryan's chest in a way that was almost bragging as he stared at Geoff with a "get on with it" face.

Geoff shifted uncomfortably; usually he didn't mind getting put on the spot, but there was something about Ryan's ice-blue stare that made him want to either run away, or do /unspeakable/ things to him. "Fine," the tattooed man muttered, pulling his shirt over his head and shucking off his jeans as quickly as possibly. He didn't think he'd ever been quite this aware of his pudgy stomach (Something that could definitely be labeled a "beer belly") before, or less fond of it.

"Yeah, I know, he makes me self conscious too." Michael muttered, before moving around Ryan to yank Geoff onto the bed too, he pressed their lips together gently before pulling away.

"I make you self conscious?" Ryan murmured, sounding slightly surprised. He knew he was intimidating, but he'd also thought Michael had gotten over his fear, given the fact that he'd let the older man cut him open on more than one occasion.

 

"You used to more." Michael shrugged, "Your eyes are like fucking daggers when you want them to be." He let out a slight laugh, letting his hands run gently across Geoff's thighs, massaging at the skin there gently.

Ryan's lips pressed together in a bemused line, but there was a hint of hurt under the expression. Geoff felt a stab of pity for the man; sometimes he forgot that not everyone interacted with people with the easy charisma that he did. "It's kind of hot though," the tattooed man supplied, shivering slightly at the feel of Michael's hand on his legs.

Michael furrowed his brow at Geoff's comment, he felt like he'd missed something and it definitely made him feel some sort of tinge of emotion that he didn't understand. He moved closer to Ryan and pressed an apologetic kiss to the corner of the man's lips, even if he wasn't sure why. "It is." He agreed, honestly he liked Ryan's stares

Ryan rolled his eyes, curling his fingers through Michael's hair and tugging him onto the older man's lap. His other hand ran over Michael's bloody bandages, pressing down strategically in all the places he knew it would hurt the most. Geoff simply watched them, one hand moving furtively down towards his cock.

Michael slid his hands to Ryan's shoulders, shifting slightly against Ryan's body, he could feel the arousal spiking through him already. He cried out when Ryan pressed at the stinging places, making a pained expression before it fell off into a moan. Everything felt heightened and it sent him practically writhing on Ryan's lap.

Ryan grinned devilishly, leaning in to suck at Michael's collarbone. Geoff groaned at the gesture, half aroused and half annoyed that Ryan wasn't /getting the fuck on with it/. He palmed himself more forcefully to make up for the other man's pace, biting his lip as he let his eyes trail hungrily over the pair.

Michael tilted his head back to give Ryan more room, grinding down harsher on the man's lap now that he was finally starting to grow hard again. He spared a glance to Geoff and moaned at the image of the man palming himself while watching them.

"Fuck," Geoff murmured, thrusting his hand into his boxers and beginning to stroke himself, "You have no idea how fucking good you look… Jesus Christ." Ryan's only response was a grin as his hands moved to Michael’s hips, grinding up against the other man and gripping hard enough that if he kept it up, there would be hand-shaped bruises the next day.

Michael whined at Geoff's words, hand locking around the back of Ryan's neck and pulling him in for a needy kiss as the man ground up against him. His fingers dug into the skin of Ryan's neck as he tried to bite at the man's lower lip.

 

Geoff let out a moan, watching Ryan respond with precise movements of tongue and teeth and /fuck/, he's waited too long for this. He hadn't realized how long he'd been waiting for it until this very afternoon, but he needed to get his hands on Ryan. On Michael. On both of them at this same time, preferably, because that's the kind of person he was. "Holy fucking shit… Michael, move over." It wasn't a command so much as a request.

Michael ignored Geoff for a few moments, too caught up in grinding against Ryan's lap to notice he was even talking. He pulled away from Ryan's lips slid off of him with a groan and a teasing glare sent the man's way.

Ryan raised an eyebrow at Geoff, opening his mouth to ask what he had planned, but then the tattooed man was on top of him. Geoff took advantage of his slack-jawed state, slipping his tongue into Ryan's mouth and effectively tongue-fucking him for a moment. He shifted his attention to Ryan's jaw, biting along it before moving down to suck wetly at his neck.

Ryan's hands went instinctively to Geoff's hips, but there was a surprised expression seemingly permanently plastered onto his face. It wasn't that the experience was unpleasant, just unexpected and actually much more enjoyable than he expected, given that he'd never had someone quite this aggressive sitting in his lap before.

Michael watched with a slightly wide eyed expression. He was usually pretty needy when it came to attention, and didn't take not being the center of attention, but there was something incredibly hot about watching the two go at it. He let out a moan, partly to try to bring their attention back to him but mostly just because it was hot as fuck.

Geoff reached out blindly, threading a hand into Michael's curls once he found them and pulling the man closer. Ryan just let out a soft, growling sound and scooted backward slightly so that he was able to slip his arms over the headboard and clutch the bars from the back. His hips were working up towards Geoff mostly of his own accord, and as odd as it was, he still didn't feel out of control. The knowledge that he could flip Geoff over at any time kept him from actually doing it; whereas Ryan was a command, Geoff was a suggestion. One that he didn't mind following.

Michael moved closer, arching his head slightly from Geoff's roughness, it was almost odd that they both seemed to gain more confidence around each other. He moved forward to nip gently at Geoff's neck, sliding a hand across the man's chest before moving it to slide along Ryan's chest, flicking a thumb across his nipple.

Ryan let out a low sound from the back of his throat. He wasn't used to being the center of attention, and really he wanted to flip this around on Michael. But Geoff, it seemed, had other plans. Plans that involved him mouthing down the other man's chest until he reached the band of his boxers, not bothering look up at Ryan's conflicted face as he began to pull off the underwear. He didn't want to ruin the moment, he really didn't. Not when Michael looked so gorgeous and flushed, like he was having the time of his life, but the thought of Geoff's mouth around him made his dick soften slightly. He knew once it was happening, he'd respond instinctively to the stimulus, but still...

Michael moved away from Geoff, instead running his hands along Ryan's chest and mouthing against his neck, he took a moment to pull back, staring down at Ryan and quirking an eyebrow. He mouthed a silent "You okay?" Simply because there was something different in his face that he didn't quite understand.

Ryan let out a soft sigh, opening his mouth to respond, but was stopped short by Geoff: "Fucking shit, I was right." The older man was looking down at Ryan's cock, giving it an appraising look before turning to glare accusatorially at Michael. 

"Bullshit, you never noticed he was bigger than me." It wasn't by an obscene amount, but it was enough that Geoff was kind of annoyed that Michael had tried to spare his ego. Or maybe the younger man didn't give a fuck about size, but still.

Michael turned to laugh at him, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. He honestly hadn't compared them, but he'd be lying if he said he hadn't noticed. He kept his hand rubbing gentle circles along Ryan's chest and turned back to arch an eyebrow at him. "Yeah, well... Must've slipped my mind."

Ryan rolled his eyes, pushing Geoff away with his feet. The older man made an annoyed sound that quickly turned into a sharp intake of breath when Ryan unhooked his arms from the headboard to push him further back onto the sheets. "Size doesn't matter; it's how you use it." The cliche phrase warranted a chuckle from Geoff as Ryan crawled over him, groaning when a hand ghosted over the outline of his cock. The psychopath grinned, turning to raise an eyebrow at Michael. "Want to help me?"

Michael nodded hurriedly, crawling over and sliding his palms along Geoff's chest roughly before leaning in to bite along the man's belly button. "I'd be delighted." Michael smirked out.

"You motherfuckers," Geoff grumbled, but he was grinning. He was rarely the center of attention, given the fact that Michael soaked up affection like a sponge, and he loved the feeling of Michael's arms bracketing his stomach as the man leaned in to suck and tease his skin, while one of Ryan's large hands palmed him. The other snapped the waistband of his boxers, and Geoff lifted his hips up, allowing Ryan to slide them off.

Michael looked up at Geoff, charismatic smile falling over his face as he trailed his lips lower, letting himself bite at the man's hip bones before licking up the side of man's cock.

"Fuck- Michael…" Geoff let out a broken moan, propping himself up on his elbows so he could watch the younger man. "Fucking /shit/, I love your mouth. You're so fucking good, baby- mmf," he bit his lip, trying to stifle a moan.

Ryan smirked at the noises, sidling up behind Michael and kissing the crook of the man's neck. His hands trailed over Michael's hips, one slipping into his boxers and stroking him as if he was rewarding the other man for the sounds he was prompting out of Geoff.

Michael suckled along the man's base, moaning when Ryan wrapped a hand around him. He was prompted by the man's encouragement, pressing a light kiss to Geoff's tip before letting his mouth sink down and sucked more harshly, wiggling his hips back into Ryan's hand. His cock still felt sensitive and it only made the touches more amazing.

Ryan made sure to stroke slowly, languidly trailing his fingers up and down Michael's length and toying with the slit. He was the only one of them that wasn't fully hard, and he made a note not to push Michael too far. If the younger man collapsed after he came, like he usually did, Ryan would have no choice but to either let Geoff "take care of him" or reject the man and jerk himself to completion. Either way, the situation wouldn't be optimal. 

Meanwhile, Geoff's mouth was going a mile a minute: "Fuck, Michael… You're so goddamn hot, it should be illegal… You're so good, so fucking good, baby. Can't tell you- fuck- can't tell you how good you make me feel… So fucking pretty..."

Michael smiled at the praise rolling off Geoff's tongue, hands moving up to grab the man's hips so that he could properly swallow him down, making sure to relax his throat and flick his tongue across him.

Geoff groaned, eyes practically rolling back in his head, and Ryan's hand on Michael sped up to compensate for the noise. "Jesus, fuck… I swear to God, I'm gonna cum down your fucking throat if you keep- hnn…" The tattooed man bit his lip, trying to hold back another lewd sound, "Wanna watch Ryan fuck you into the mattress… Wanna cum watching that, as much as I love your mouth."

Michael smiled at him, offering one last hard suck before pulling off him with a lewd pop. He sat back on his knees, wiping his mouth clean of the spit and pulling Ryan's hand from his cock before flopping over to reach forward and open the drawer to search for the lube and a condom.

Ryan chuckled darkly, his eyes sweeping over Geoff in a way that made the older man's cock twitch. He sat up, biting his lip and scooting over to one side of the bed so that Michael and Ryan would have more room to work with.

"You're absolutely obscene," Ryan commented, positioning himself in between Michael's legs while the younger man fumbled around in the drawer.

Michael smirked when his hands finally located the objects, tossing them over beside Ryan while he let his ass grind back against Ryan, tongue sliding out to wet his lips and sending Geoff a doe-eyed look, knowing very well how those eyes worked on Geoff. "Kiss?" He questioned, he wanted to share at least one more with him before he watched.

/Michael and his fucking doe-eyes/, Geoff lamented, crawling forwards to capture the man's lips in a messy, open-mouthed kiss as Ryan tugged his boxers off completely, throwing them to the side. 

"You're a glutton for affection," Geoff murmured, but the words were affectionate.

"Well, he's not going to get the kind of attention I want to give him, unless you have something besides this," Ryan commented, looking down at the bottle of silicone based lube in his hand: definitely not safe for consumption. When Geoff turned to look at him, he shook the container back and forth, raising an eyebrow.

Michael wiggled his hips again impatiently, moving to bite at Geoff's jaw as the two talked, he felt like there was far too much conversation for his liking, he licked across the side of Geoff's face, biting at his ear as he waited for Ryan to fucking do something.

Geoff let out a soft groan, "Fuck- yeah. Disgusting stuff that tastes like peppermint, but yeah." He waved towards the bedside table and Ryan reached forwards, exchanging the discrete bottle for a smaller one, labeled in bright, aqua-blue bubble letters. He set it aside on the bed, leaning down to bite at Michael's inner thigh.

Michael moaned out loudly at the bite, shoving away at Geoff and choosing instead to clutch at the pillows, fingers scratching at the fabric. "Fuckin' hell, Ry." He whined, wiggling his hips back more. "Fucking, hurry up."

Geoff grinned, sitting back and enjoying the show. Ryan was sucking a hickey on Michael's thigh, smirking into the skin. The nickname seemed to prompt him to go further, grabbing Michael's hips in his hands and lifting the man up into the air. "Help me out, then," he murmured, raising an eyebrow mischievously at Michael.

Michael adjusted to the new position, bracing himself on his elbows and moving his legs farther apart, giving Ryan more room, he reached behind him, grabbing the brightly colored bottle of lube and squeezed some onto his fingers figuring if Ryan wanted him to help he would. He tossed the bottle back to Ryan, figuring if he wanted more he could use it. He tilted his head curiously, taking a tiny taste of it and nearly retching at the strong mint taste. "That's fucking gross." He muttered, and took the time to realize that Ryan was a pretty sacrificing lover. He slid a hand back to his ass, worming his finger inside and moaning lewdly at the feeling.

"Yeah, I know," Geoff commented, making a face, "I bought it for a bet with Gav." He'd thought the mint flavor would've made eating the entire bottle easier, but he hadn't even been able to get through the first third.

Ryan chuckled, leaning down to lick around Michael's finger and making a face. It wasn't /too/ bad, and at least it masked the taste.

Michael groaned when Ryan licked around his finger, eyes shutting tightly as he slid his finger out and then back in, hooking it before adding another finger, ignoring the almost painful stretch, he really didn't care much about it anyway, he'd had worse.

Geoff moaned softly, unable to hold back any longer, and began to stroke himself once more. /Fuck/, he didn't think he was going to last through all of this; Michael's noises alone were enough to make him ache.

Ryan, however, obviously didn't feel the same, given the fact that he was admonishing Michael to slow his thrusting fingers. "You're going to hurt yourself if you keep that up," he murmured, tongue lapping at the younger man's hole, slipping in and out along with the fingers.

"B-but I need it so bad, need you so bad- ah fuck- right there, holy hell." Michael whimpered out, trying to keep his hips from wiggling as Ryan's tongue pressed against him. He scissored his fingers again, but slowed down significantly due to Ryan's request. He spared a glance to Geoff, almost wishing he hadn't when the visual was erotic as fuck. "Jesus..." He murmured out breathily.

Ryan grinned- Well, grinned as much as someone with their tongue inside another could grin. Still, he knew what Michael meant, given the fact that he himself was achingly hard, and the most relief he'd gotten was Geoff palming his cock when he removed his boxers. "I could fuck you now, but it would hurt. And I’d have to stop eating you out," Ryan chuckled, swiping his tongue languidly up Michael's perineum.

Michael let out a strangled groan, hips bucking into the air of their own accord. He removed his hand, the angle was starting to make his hand cramp up and it felt more comfortable to rest his elbows and not be unbalanced. Not to mention he had yet to find the delicious bundle of nerves. He wondered briefly if Geoff could stand seeing Ryan's fingers dig into his wounds, or if he could even prompt Ryan to remove at least one of the bandages.

Ryan continued to work his tongue in and out of Michael, a digit joining in a moment later. He didn't dare add another, given the dry state of his fingers, and he was fairly preoccupied with holding Michael up with one hand. He briefly wondered if he could make Michael cum just like this, but the thought was pushed out of his head when Geoff let out a particularly loud moan. "Fucking dicks… If you go any slower, I'm going to blow a gasket, Ry."

Michael let out a noise of affirmation, pushing back against the man and wiggling his hips. "Fucking, pl-please, Ryan." Michael honest to god felt like he was coming undone at the seams due to Ryan's slow tactics, he almost felt like he was taking longer than normal.

 

Ryan let out an exaggerated sigh, but there was wicked shimmer in his eyes. "Fine. Flip over." He grabbed the bottle of lube, quickly coating his fingers without even checking to see if Michael had done as he asked.

Michael flipped over quickly, adjusting himself slightly on the pillows. He wound a hand into Ryan's hair, tugging roughly against the locks and trying to prompt him to hurry up.

There was something about seeing Ryan thrust two fingers into Michael's ass that almost /broke/ Geoff. Or maybe it was the way the man's other hand went up to peel the long, blood-soaked bandage off Michael's spine and pressed down on the scab. Or maybe it was the fact that Ryan added a third finger just as he did, fucking Geoff's not-boyfriend (lover?) with his fingers more expertly that the tattooed man had ever seen anyone finger someone outside of pornos. But he spilled over his hand then, working through his orgasm with a hand pumping his cock in time with the thrust of Ryan's fingers.

Michael cried out at the overwhelming sensations of Ryan's expert fingers inside of him and the one pressing against the scab. It was painful as fuck, and he swore his eyes started to water from the sting, but it was fucking incredible and he knew his loud cry would prove that. "Fu-fucking hell, f-fuck me- God, it stings like hell."

Geoff panted, wiping his sticky hand on the bedsheets and reaching for the condom near Michael's head. He tore it open with his teeth, handing it to Ryan wordlessly when the man pulled his fingers out of the man squirming beneath him. 

"Cum already?" Ryan teased, rolling the latex over his cock and stroking it a few times to coat it in the remaining lube. 

"What can I say, you two are fucking hot," Geoff murmured, scooting up so that he was sitting near the head of the bed, winding a hand through Michael's hair and tugging it harshly.

Michael made a pouty noise at the loss of Ryan's fingers, shifting his hips impatiently. He moaned when Geoff tugged roughly at his hair, enjoying the slight man-handling more than he'd liked to admit.

Ryan bent forwards to kiss the uncovered cut over Michael's spine, uncharacteristically gentle as he picked up the man's hips and slid into him slowly, letting out a low moan at the tight heat. He was about two seconds away from just pounding the younger man into the mattress, with Michael's okay, of course.

Michael moaned loudly when Ryan slid in slowly, already annoyed by the lack of pace he'd set. "Jesus, fucking hell. Ry, pick up the pace would you?" Michael ground out, sending a fake glare the man's way.

 

Ryan chuckled, but complied. He pulled almost fully out of Michael, groaning at the loss of heat, and letting out another moan when he thrust back in. He set a quick, rough pace, eyes focusing on the place where his cock disappeared every time he buried himself inside Michael, angling himself experimentally and trying to brush against the man's prostate. The only sounds in the room were the slap of skin on skin, /Michael/, his own soft grunts- a little more animalistic than he would have liked, and the wet sound of Geoff pressing a sloppy kiss to Michael's lips.

Michael let out a loud moan when Ryan hit his prostate, grabbing harshly at the sheets and trying to grind his hips back as best he could. He kissed Geoff back, flicking his tongue across his upper lip.

Ryan grinned, continuing his relentless pace at the same angle. Honestly, he wanted to see if he could make Michael come without touching him, and the idea of the younger man spilling over simply due to Ryan fucking into him made his cock twitch. 

Geoff, meanwhile, was busy with Michael's mouth, nipping the man's lips and jaw line, before moving to whisper breathily into his ear. "Fuck, Michael, you look so damn good like that. I'd ask you to get me off with your mouth if I hadn't already cum listening to the noises you were making while Ryan buried his fingers in your ass."

Michael moaned lewdly at the combination of Geoff's words, and Ryan's god damn hips slamming against him, and /holy fuck/ he was managing to hit his prostate on almost every other thrust, it was fucking incredible. He let out another series of incoherent whines, shaking his head lightly to try to cure his fogging brain, short curls bouncing as he did. He normally probably would've lasted longer if he hadn't been so oversensitive from his earlier orgasm. "F-fuck, can't la-last.. Feels so good, so good...fuckin-"

Ryan could feel himself nearing the edge as well, and the way Michael was responding wasn't helping. He was beginning to grow inconsistent in his thrusts, and he bit down hard on his lip to keep from coming then and there. 

"Come on, baby," Geoff murmured, nipping at his earlobe and licking up the shell, "I wanna see you cum with Ryan's cock in your ass…"

Geoff's words sent Michael over the edge quickly, a sharp cry echoed it's way from his throat, head tossing back and gasping out as he came across his own stomach. It was followed by a flurry of moans, body going limp as he blinked away his blurring vision.

 

Ryan followed him over the edge; the feeling of Michael clenching around his cock was enough to make him bite down on the skin of Michael's back to muffle an almost violent moan. His hips stuttered, before he thrust deeply into Michael one last time as he panted, utterly spent. He let himself fall bonelessly against the younger man for a moment, before gathering the energy to slide out and collapse back on the bed.

Michael managed to crawl over to Ryan enough to give him a kiss on the cheek before doing the same to Geoff before he collapsed onto his stomach, his body felt exhausted and he honestly wasn't too far from falling asleep, despite the fact that he was sure they'd make fun of him.

Ryan hummed contently, wrapping his arms around Michael and spooning him. He felt tired, for once, and as scratchy as Geoff's sheets were compared to his silk ones at home, he felt like he was about to drift off. 

"Hey, don't hog all the cuddles," Geoff muttered, sliding in next to Michael and tangling their legs together and winding a hand into the man's hair. He smelled like sweat, and sex, and cinnamon, and he could /totally/ get behind a nap right now.

Michael smiled sleepily at them, pressing back closer to Ryan and nuzzling his face into the crook of Geoff's neck, shaky yawn falling from his throat as he placed a gentle hand against Geoff's stomach and the other along Ryan's arm that was currently encircling his waist.

Geoff's last thought before drifting off was that the door was still open, and holy /fuck/ did he hope Gavin would walk in on this. It would probably scramble the kid's fucking brains, and if not, it would traumatize him for life. He couldn't wait to see the look on his face...

Michael passed out quickly, body giving in to the exhaustion. Sleep in and of itself was warm and heated with the way he was sandwiched between the men, though he wasn't about to complain with the immense amount of love and protection he felt. He was sure Ray would preach to him about how sex shouldn't make him feel like he mattered, but it did and he wasn't so sure he'd ever lose that thought process. He woke up like thirty minutes after from a nightmare, but it wasn't bad enough to wake them up and he fell asleep quickly after. 

Gavin had finally decided to return home to Geoff's, mainly to make sure the man hadn't gone and done something stupid.

Ryan woke up to the sound of the apartment door opening and closing, silently cursing his erratic sleep patterns. He was fully awake now, despite his closed eyes, but the warmth of Michael's back against his chest, and the feel of hands- Geoff's? Michael's?- on his arm were immensely comforting.

Gavin looked around the living room, noting that Geoff wasn't there and figured he'd just text him later, deciding to just grab a redbull and walk to his bedroom. He walked down the hall, peeking over slightly when he realized the door was over. He caught sight of the men, eyes widening and immediately shutting the door with an exaggerated. "Jesus!"

Michael flinched at the sound of the door, but otherwise stayed asleep.

Ryan chuckled, extricating himself from the tangle of bodies and throwing the condom away in Geoff's trash. He quietly picked up his clothes from the floor, deciding that only the underwear were needed, and pulled on his boxers- at least he was about 90% sure they were his. That was the problem when both of your bedmates also happened to wear the same brand of checkered underwear that you did. He slipped out of the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him.

Gavin had moved back into the living room, sitting down in front of the TV and watching some shit show. He looked up at Ryan as he walked out of the room, offering a small wave.

Ryan's lips curled up into a satisfied grin, a very "cat-who-got-the-cream" expression that wasn't entirely inaccurate, given the actions that put it there. "Hey, Gav. Whatcha watching?"

"Nothings on, I swear, five thousand channels and it's a bunch of bloody shit." Gavin rolled his eyes, "Nice hair." He mused, observing Ryan's very messy hair.

"Michael's very tactile," the man smirked, flopping on the couch beside Gavin and smoothing his hair back into some semblance of order. "But I take comfort in the fact that he's probably twice as wrecked as I am." His eyes slid over to Gavin's face, waiting for a reaction. Honestly, he expected at least a few questions.

Gavin smiled genuinely at him, letting out a small laugh. "So... Geoff too, huh? When'd that happen?" Gavin never pretended that their relationships were any of his business, but he did have a lot of nosy tendencies and he really wanted to understand why they were /all/ together.

"When I came over," Ryan shrugged, "Turns out, being an adult and talking about your fucking issues leads to amazing sex." Well, it had been amazing for the most part. The moment where he'd had to pull Geoff's attention away from touching him still didn't sit right in his mind. "But, damn, Geoff's got a mouth on him…" Ryan chuckled, noting the sliver of pure /Georgia/ that slipped into his voice. He was getting too comfortable… He'd have to pay attention to that.

"I really didn't think Geoff was your type at all, Ryan, not gonna lie. But yeah, he does." He laughed out, recalling the other night when Geoff had been wanting to fuck him, it'd been all promises and honestly they made Gavin flush no matter how straight he was.

"He's not," Ryan muttered, sighing slightly. Not that he even had a type, but if he did, Geoff wouldn't have fit it. Honestly, his dick just seemed to choose people at random, zeroing in on things like their voice, or hair. The way the corner of their mouth dimpled. The subtle curve of their hips, or the scars littering their forearms. He'd focus in on one small detail, before that awareness expanded into the rest of their body, and somehow every part of them became perfectly desirable.

 

Gavin nodded, but didn't press the issue, it really wasn't his business. "Do you want something to drink?" He questioned, finishing off the rest of his red bull.

"Coke, if you have it," Ryan nodded, slinging his arms over the back of the couch and turning his attention back to the mindless droning of the TV.

Gavin nodded, standing up and making his way to the fridge, grabbing one of the cokes from the back and walking back to the living room and handing him the soda.

Ryan hummed appreciatively, popping open the can and taking a long swig; he was feeling a little bit dehydrated from his previous… activities. "So, what have you been up to?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at Gavin, "Anything specific, or did you just decide to leave all the dirty work to Ray and skip out?”

"Nah, I had a date with Meg. Though, I have to admit I'm not that great at dealing with either of them, so." Gavin shrugged, he wasn't about to lie about bailing on Ray, he'd had better things to do, namely his girlfriend. Which, she had finally termed them.

"How is she?" Ryan queried, propping his feet up on the coffee table. He wondered if she knew about what Gavin did for a living, or was living in blissful ignorance like Caiti. He really wanted to meet Jack's girlfriend, with the way the woman went on about her, but Jack had forbidden any of them from intruding on her personal life.

"She's lovely," Gavin smiled, crashing back into the armchair. "She's been trying to get me to stay at her house for more than a day." Gavin shrugged his shoulders, she'd just joked about how he was using her for sex, but it wasn't anywhere near true, even if she was fantastic in bed. "She's dying to meet everyone as well, but y'know... It's difficult."

Ryan nodded. There were benefits to fucking the people you worked with, and not having to explain what you did for a living was one of them. "There's always a possibility she'll figure it all out and run away before you actually get around to telling her, though," Ryan murmured, remembering- what was her name, Michelle? and the incident with his collection of photographs all too vividly. "And the possibility that tomorrow's heist will be your last…"

"Yeah, well, nice talk." Gavin muttered out, but smiled at him never the less. Ryan had a way with words and conversation, that was for sure. "I'm gonna tell her, though." He'd already made the decision, but hadn't yet found the guts to tell Geoff. 

Michael stirred slightly, annoyed by the stickiness on his stomach and the dried sweat along his body. He blinked open an eye, sighing at the comfortable feeling of Geoff around him.

"Well, invite her over," Ryan offered, taking another sip of his Coke. "Meet the family, and all." He was only half sarcastic, while the more manipulative part of him wanted to see Geoff's reaction to having to introduce all the little bits of his life. Your typical nuclear family most definitely did not consist of a pseudo-son, a lover who was one of the best friends of said pseudo-son, and the man you employ to torture people, but also ended up sleeping with quite recently.

Geoff let out a soft, disgruntled noise when Michael shifted, his arms moving to encircle the man and tug him closer to his chest. Having to consciously move, however, stirred him from his slumber enough that he made a face at the feeling of jizz and sweat covering his skin.

Gavin let out a laugh, nodding his head before flipping the TV channel over to some GOT reruns. 

Michael ran a hand through Geoff's hair before recalling what had happened, noticing that they were indeed missing one. "Where's Ryan?" He questioned casually, trying not to let his fear of the man leaving show.

"Dunno," Geoff muttered, kissing Michael on the forehead before sitting up and looking around the room. "His clothes are still here though… Maybe he decided to shower or something?" Honestly, he was craving one himself, and Michael's back was a mess. He'd have to find Ryan and get him to change the bandages.

"Oh." Michael murmured, letting out a yawn and rolling over onto his back before stretching his arms up. He still felt exhausted, but he wanted a shower.

"I'll find 'im," Geoff chuckled, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and pulling on his boxers. Or, no, where they Ryan's? It didn't really matter. When he didn't find anyone in the shower, Geoff quickly cleaned his stomach with a washcloth, before heading towards the living room.

Gavin smiled up at Geoff when he entered, "Hey Geoff." He offered, adding an arched eyebrow with a slight nod toward Ryan. 

Michael clambered off the bed after Geoff left, running a hand across his face and looking for his boxers. He walked to the bathroom, turning on the shower and grabbing a towel from the closet.

Geoff flushed, rolling his eyes and flipping Gavin off before turning his attention to Ryan. "So, since you're the one who did the damage to Michael's back, I vote you get to be the one to bandage him back up. Also, you have more experience with it than me." He shrugged, scratching the back of his neck.

Ryan nodded, setting his Coke on the coffee table and standing up, "Sounds reasonable."

Gavin scoffed a little at their interaction, he was shocked to say the least and he mouthed a "Really?" To Geoff. 

 

Michael turned around, observing his back and wincing. The one that was opened looked rough and scratched, dried blood sticking to his back, the bandaged wounds were scratched and bunched up. He ran a hand across the back of his neck and let out a sigh.

Geoff nodded, shivering when Ryan slid past him and towards the hall, trailing a hand over the tattooed man's shoulder as he did so. Geoff moved around to take a seat on the couch, making sure that Ryan was out of the room before speaking. "Yeah, Michael's a complete masochist, apparently. Or Ryan knows some sort of insanely sexy trick with knives that makes him practically jizz his pants." He was a little jealous that the psychopath could draw such amazing sounds out of Michael.

Gavin raised his eyebrows up, "I'm not that shocked, though I am shocked you had sex with /Ryan/, jesus Geoff..."

Geoff made a face, crossing his arms over his chest and looking resolutely at the TV screen. "Yeah, well." He didn't really know what to say. That Ryan was hot? Funny? Sexy? That he practically drove Michael insane with his fucking tongue? That Geoff had somehow gotten the hots for a potential serial killer without realizing it… Motherfucker.

"I mean, I'm fine with the guy, but... He tortures people, that's got to come from emotional scarring or /something/." Truth be told, it seemed Ryan had made both men grow entranced with him and it sort of put Gavin off. He felt like he was in the middle of a manipulation game and Ryan already had two guys at his feet. He wasn't sure if he was a bad guy, but he knew he wasn't a good guy. "Like, when- when did you even start to /like/ him?"

"I'm not- I don't know…" Geoff sighed, putting his head in his hands. "I fucking don't know, okay, Gav? I know that he's hot as shit, and Michael's practically in love with him, and half of me wants to fuck his brains out, and the other half is scared as hell." He ignored the torture; it still bothered him. The image of a woman strung up from the ceiling of a warehouse danced in his head, and he felt like he might be sick.

"Well, it's your life... You can't really help who you like and all... I just worry he's manipulating you guys or something... And I'm gonna walk in one day and it's gonna be a fucking murder scene." Gavin grimaced, facing back to the TV. He didn't like voicing his concern and he wasn't too fond of opening up like this. He slid a hand a hand to his pocket, grabbing out his phone and sending a few texts.

"No… I know what you mean," Geoff murmured, carding a hand through his hair. "I really do. Fuck, Gav, you haven't even seen half of what he's capable of, and his last girlfriend that I know of? She fucking ended up strung up in a warehouse with a suicide note written in her own blood on the wall behind her." That could be Michael. Fuck, it could be /him/. But at the same time, he knew that Ryan genuinely cared about their mutual lover, and that's what scared him. That he wasn't heartless, but he would do it anyways… Because he /enjoyed/ it.

Gavin shook his head, because this was too heavy for his care free attitude. He didn't worry, that wasn't him, he laughed and joked and made fun of situations. "Well, I guess we could die tomorrow in the heist anyway." He mused, smile forming on his face. He was honestly pretty excited about the bank robbery, a little nervous as well but he was gonna try to sneak a toss of his new explosives at the cops.

Geoff chuckled, elbowing the man beside him in the ribs. "Way to fucking lighten the mood, asshole. At least I plan to fill the days before my horrific death with mind-blowing sex. What are you doing, watching Game of Thrones reruns?"

"I was with Meg earlier, so I've had a good bit of fantastic sex myself, thank you." Gavin murmured, shooting the man a roll of his eyes. "I'm gonna tell her... by the way, and introduce you."

"Yeah?" Geoff raised an eyebrow, "You're gonna let her meet the family? Damn, bold move. But if you trust her…" He shrugged. Gav may not have been the most committed person, but the people he decided were worth committing to generally ended up being trustworthy. He'd learned that when Dan the Man, one of the most reputable mercs on the market, saved his life instead of selling him out for a cool quarter million.

"Yeah, I really do trust her..." He smiled, he knew she would probably be concerned, but she wouldn't out him or his friends and that's what mattered. He was thankful Geoff was trusting him and it made him relax visibly into the armchair. "So, when's everyone meeting here?"

"Tomorrow, around 3. We'll have an hour and a half to dick around and set up before hand, and if everything goes according to plan, we should be back here by 9," Geoff rattled off. "But, if you're serious about the family meeting and all… I guess we could have everyone over tonight to meet Meg?" He grinned at Gavin, already planning out a meal in his head and wondering if Jack would be able to get away from Caiti. Honestly, he was excited to actually meet the woman Gav had been sneaking out to see every other night.

"Tonight?" Gavin widened his eyes, he hadn't been planning for tonight and he really wasn't so sure about it all, he ran a hand across his neck. "She uh- she might be doing something... Erm.."

"Come on, Gav!" Geoff pleaded, "It'll be fun. And I won't tell her about the time I stuck a finger up your ass unless it's relevant to the conversation. /And/ I'll make fuckin' steaks or something." He was practically sprawled over the man now, giving Gavin his best pair of puppy-dog eyes. "Like you said, we could all die tomorrow, so..."

"Fine, I'll text her the address and tell her to come over later, but you better make something delicious." Gavin muttered, shoving the older man off his lap. "Go bother your boyfriends or something, I'm trying to watch Game of Thrones."

Geoff pumped his hand into the air in a mock cheer, rolling off the couch and standing up. He decided not to correct Gavin's word usage, given that it made his stomach flutter pleasantly and his skin feel warm. He ambled back to his room, closing the door behind him and looking around for Ryan and Michael- bathroom. The light was on.

Michael was currently making out with Ryan, hands carded into the man's hair and immensely enjoying the sweet caresses of the man's tongue, they were both freshly clean, though Ryan had yet to bandage his cuts, they were raw and etched perfectly, clean of any dried blood. He pulled away when he noticed Geoff. "Hey."

"No… By all means, don't let me interrupt you," Geoff grinned, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes roamed hungrily over the cuts on Michael's back, and /damn/ was Ryan good with a knife. The pattern reminded him of dragonfly wings made entirely of angles, and it fit Michael perfectly. The cuts weren't wounds, somehow, but vibrant tattoos opening the younger man and letting him spill out into the world… He'd never expected to be so poetic over the slices on someone's back.

Michael smirked, watching Geoff's eyes before pressing his lips back to Ryan's, and pressing their towel'd hips together. He pulled away to nip gently at the man's neck. "You can touch them if you want, Geoffers." Michael murmured, sliding his hands across Ryan's chest.

Geoff raised an eyebrow at Ryan, who nodded, grinning when Michael bit down on his neck particularly hard. "I like it when people admire my work, go right ahead" he murmured, the hand not bracing him against the counter reaching out to beckon the tattooed man forwards, a distinctly "come hither" expression playing over his features.

Michael kissed up along Ryan's jawbone, biting just below his ear and grabbing tightly at the man's hips, he loved the fact that Geoff practically asked Ryan for permission, it felt odd, but he liked it never the less. He knew Geoff would be gentle, and even if he wasn't his hands wouldn't be nearly as painfully delicious as Ryan's were.

Geoff stepped forwards, tentatively reaching out a hand to trace over the lines cut into Michael's skin with his index finger. "Fuck… They look like they hurt," he muttered, shivering at the thought of a blade cutting into his own skin. The thought was frightening, and entirely unpleasant, but apparently Michael got off on that kind of pain.

"They do, or did, not so bad anymore." Michael murmured out, almost laughing; that was sort of the fucking point. He purposely flexed his back muscles, moving to lick at Ryan's collar bone.

Geoff made a soft, appreciative noise when Michael flexed, and pushed at one of the cuts experimentally, watching as blood began to rise to the surface once more. He stopped, not wanting to undo all of Ryan's work, but at the same time, he wondered what the intricate patterns looked like when they were fresh.

Michael let out a subtle groan, already feeling his face flush as the slight sting hit, he shuddered before moving to bite roughly on Ryan's skin, harsher than he probably should've been. He remembered that Geoff wasn't too great at picking up visual clues. "Hmm, press harder." He whined out.

"You're gonna get blood all over the bathroom," Geoff muttered, but complied, spreading his hands across Michael's back and bending his fingers in, gently but firmly pressing into the wounds. 

Ryan let out a soft groan, his free hand moving up to tangle in Michael's hair as he arched his back. He liked being on the receiving end of Michael's reactions, for once, as opposed to letting his pillows and sheets get bitten and grabbed at.

Michael let out a slight yell against Ryan's skin, chomping down against his shoulder blade after, eyes squinting as the pain flowed through him. He really didn't think Geoff would've ever purposely hurt him like this, but here he was, letting his fingers dig into his skin.

"Fuck," Geoff cursed, stepping back and raising his hands as if he was surrendering. "Are you okay?" Ryan noted that his eyes were wide, as if he couldn't believe that he'd just hurt Michael… /On purpose/. It would have been amusing, if the twinge of fear in the tattooed man's eyes hadn't been all too visible.

Michael turned around to glance at him. "I'm fine, Geoff, it felt /nice/." He moved to grab the man's hands, kissing each of his palms before kissing up his left arm, pressing exceptionally gentle lips against his skin. "It's okay."

"Okay… Okay, cool," Geoff murmured, smiling down at Michael. He gathered the younger man into his arms, shooting Ryan a glare when he simply relaxed further back onto the counter, watching them. "You too, asshole. Group hug."

"Yes, sir," Ryan chuckled, pushing off the marble to massage Michael's shoulders, kneading into the flesh before moving down, giving his wounds the same treatment.

Michael groaned as Ryan's hands found their way to his wounds, biting at Geoff's neck this time instead as he pressed his back against Ryan's hands. "Harder." He prompted, flicking his tongue along Geoff's skin.

Ryan was more than happy to comply, his fingers pressing and digging into every cut he could get his hands on, grin widening every time his actions produced a noise- either from Michael, or from Geoff, who was now of the receiving end of their lover's intense affections.

 

Michael pulled away from Geoff to let out an almost scream when Ryan pressed into a particularly sensitive area. His toweled hips bucked up into Geoff's before leaning forward to bite at Geoff's earlobe. "F-fuck..."

"Frot now, fuck later," Geoff panted, hands fumbling down to tug at Michael's towel, "Gotta make dinner- fuck!" He let out a moan when the younger man bit down on his ear in response to Ryan's continuous touches.

Michael slid his hands to Geoff's hips, fingertips digging in harshly as he trailed his lips down to bite at the man's neck, he didn't pause to suck due to the pain of the pressing and causing his mouth to clamp down habitually. "Ah- damn, mmm."

Geoff didn't know he managed to focus enough to unwrap Michael's towel from around his waist and tug down his boxers, but he did. His hand closed around the younger man's cock, stroking it a few times before urging Michael to move his hips forwards with a "Stop being such a tease" with a moan tacked onto the end. Meanwhile, Ryan's hands massaged into their lover's wounds, content to simply watch the other two men go at each other.

Michael obeyed quickly, grinding his hips up into Geoff's hand, his own winding down to palm at the other man's cock. He moaned out harshly at the contact, tugging his other hand into Geoff's hair.

Discontented with the contact, Geoff tugged Michael forward by his hips, taking both of their cocks in hand and beginning to stroke them with a low, pleasured moan. "Jesus fucking Christ, Michael… You feel so fucking good." He heard Ryan chuckle lowly, and opened his eyes- when had he closed them?- to catch a glimpse of the psychopath leaning forwards to drag his tongue over one of their lover's bleeding wounds.

Michael bucked up into Geoff's hand, moaning at the way their cocks brushed together. "Fuckin-fucking hell, God- Geoff..." He whined out, letting out a sharp cry when Ryan licked at his wounds. "Ah, Ryan... Shit- ah, fuck- just like that..." Michael murmured out, head falling back as he let out short breaths.

Ryan repeated the action, moving his mouth to another cut, and sucking slowly. He loved this, taking apart Michael piece by piece, watching the careful energy he was putting into this get transferred to Geoff as their lover bucked and clawed and nipped at his skin. He enjoyed it in a way that was almost completely separated from anything sexual, despite the fact that Geoff was speeding up his strokes in a desperate effort to heighten his pleasure.

Michael slammed his hips up again, body trembling slightly as Ryan sucked at his wounds. He could practically feel the blood leaving his body, and Ryan's mouth was warm and hot against him. He moved his hands to claw roughly at Geoff's back, mouth moving to chomp down against his neck. He could feel himself edging closer to an orgasm, hips almost becoming frantic as he his moans became almost cries.

Ryan moved his mouth away from Michael's back for a moment, letting his hands take over as he ran his tongue over the shell of the man's ear. "Come on, Michael… Let me /hear/ you," he murmured moving down to nip at his neck and shoulder before returning to his ministrations. His tongue traced over the wounds, and he knew he probably looked like a vampire with the amount of blood that was on and around his mouth, but it was absolutely /divine/.

Michael didn't even try covering up his full on scream as he came into Geoff's hand, fingers clenching along Geoff's back as his body tensed and shuddered. He could feel his eyes leaking from pain induced tears, but he moaned out as he ground his hips into Geoff's hand and rode out his orgasm.

Geoff followed a moment after, Michael's scream flipping a switch in him that he didn't understand. Pleasure, mixed with a hint of fear for the man's safety, coursed through him and he swore his vision went white for a moment, before he'd finished and was practically collapsing on the floor next to the bathtub.

Michael let himself collapse on top of Geoff, smile lacing his face as he pressed a kiss to the corner of the man's lips. He peered back at Ryan's bloody lips, letting out a lewd moan at the sight. He looked terrifyingly perfect and it sent Michael scrambling up to embrace him.

Ryan let out a short laugh, stumbling back a few steps until he was bracing himself against the counter, one hand curling into Michael's hair as he kissed the man passionately. He felt… contented, as if he'd actually woken up /rejuvenated/ after a long nap, like people were supposed to, instead of feeling like their eyes were filled with sand, yet still unable to go to sleep, like Ryan usually did. 

Geoff tucked himself back into his boxers lazily, letting his eyes roam over the pair.

"Do- you never got off? Let me, I can help." Michael murmured, nipping gently at the man's lower lip before sliding himself unto his knees and mouthing at the man's toweled dick. He could feel the blood trickling down his back, splattering occasionally on Geoff's floor.

Ryan shook his head, though his dick switched at the feeling of Michael's mouth ghosting over the cloth, "I'm fine. Really, I enjoy the sounds you make more than an orgasm." He could replay the younger man's screams and moans in his head for hours, simply satisfied by the fact that he'd been the one to produce them.

Michael arched an eyebrow but nodded and pulled back, he wouldn't have minded giving a blow job, but if Ryan didn't didn't feel like it he wasn't about to ignore it. He stood back up, sliding a hand to cup the man's face before grabbing a washcloth to scrub the blood off his mouth gently.

"Do I look like a vampire?" Ryan asked, his voice slightly muffled by the towel. 

Geoff chuckled, moving to sit on the edge of the tub, balancing his elbows on his knees, "Yeah, just a bit. But vampires are in this year, so..."

"Do you sparkle?" Michael questioned, finishing off washing the man's face before shoving it in Ryan's hand and turning around so that Ryan could clean his back.

Ryan took it, gently swabbing the wounds clean for the third time that day. "No, but I could be persuaded into wearing body glitter." Geoff snickered, getting up to grab himself a clean washcloth.

"I dare you to wear it tonight." Michael mocked, wincing slightly as Ryan dabbed at the wounds. Michael moved away once he finished, grabbing his boxers from the corner and tugging them up. He stretched his arms up over his head before lunging playfully unto Geoff's back.

"Sure, if Geoff has any," Ryan shrugged. He wasn't really the self-conscious type.

Geoff chuckled hoisting Michael further up onto his back, "Well, I do have some from a bet with Gav, but we're meeting Meg tonight- his girlfriend."

"Oh? We are? Shit, can we embarrass the fuck out of him? I vote we demand pictures of them the entire time." Michael laughed, wrapping his arms entirely around Geoff's shoulders. "Do I have any clean clothes left here?"

"Probably only your nice ones," Geoff chuckled. He hadn't done laundry in a few days, and Michael's clothes were no doubt spread across the apartment, "So no pink Power Ranger t-shirt. But yes, we're going to be embarrassing as dicks."

"I'll get the body glitter," Ryan deadpanned, grabbing his boxers and placing a kiss on Michael's shoulder, before walking out of the bathroom. "Let me get dressed, and then we'll bandage those… Unless you wanna show them to Gavin." He chuckled; the Brit would probably faint.

"Okay." Michael murmured, watching Ryan leave and pressing a kiss to Geoff's cheek before sliding off his back and pulling him in for a hug, it was nice; that was his first thought when he fell into Geoff's embrace. He'd had a lot of sex lately, which was fantastic and Michael definitely wouldn't complain, but he'd missed the sort of non-intimate touching. It wasn't that he felt spread thin between the two of them, but going from house to house and fucking each of them nearly every day was surprisingly more work than he'd initially planned. It's what made him hope that they could continue whatever this was, at least for a while.

 

Geoff folded Michael into his chest, burying his face in the man's curls and breathing in the heady smell of cinnamon. He held on tightly, as if Michael might slip through his grasp if he let go; he still wasn't used to the feeling of permanence that was settling between them. "So… Watcha thinking?" he ventured, tilting the man's face up to meet his in a quick kiss, "Y'know… About eerything."

"I like it." Michael murmured, letting his lips press against Geoff's for a second. "It's nice, to feel like I don't have to constantly pick between the two of you." He told him honestly, sliding his hands up to rest gently on the man's neck. "I don't want it to stop."

"Yeah… I know what you mean," Geoff replied, carding his fingers through Michael's hair. He liked the contrast, the fact that Ryan could supply things he couldn't; namely, maturity and the sadistic nature their lover craved so badly. He knew that Gavin was right, that there was a possibility that it was all an elaborate ruse to get the two of them under his thumb, but at the same time, he had a gut feeling that that wasn't the case. "But the cuddling does have to stop, because I need to get dressed and make dinner and call Ray and Jack..."

Michael gave him a pouty look, sighing before pushing him away. He was sort of craving laying on Geoff's chest and watching movies and stupid shows, and he was well aware they were gonna be busy. He tapped at Geoff's cheek before walking out of the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed, as usual, comments are always appreciated!


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